Draco's End
by naturegirlrocks
Summary: Draco is rescued by Harry, but is still unsure whos side he is on. Severus and Fred wakes up with memoryloss but find eachother. Canon compliant up to the fire in the RoR in book 7. Warning: un-betaed, but worth it.
1. In the line of Fire

Draco Malfoy lay on the narrow bed with his head in his mothers lap as he watched his father stride the small room. Lucius has been doing his nervous walking for the last hour since the family had been placed in custody.

They were in a holding cell at the Ministry of Magic. The room was made for one, but the family had been allowed to stay together. Narcissa was absentmindedly running her fingers through Draco's hair, her nails scratching his scalp in a comforting and soothing way. If it was not for Lucius nervous moves, Draco could have fallen asleep. It had been a long and trying day. Crabbe was dead, he knew that much. How many others?

* * *

He remembered that had been standing by the scolding residues of the Room of Requirement. The three Gryffindors had been rushing away towards their awaiting heroics. Harry had given Draco a look that said he felt sorry over what had happened and then he was gone. Deep in his heart Draco felt the worrying feeling that this might had been the last time he ever would see him.

The flames were also gone by this time. Ashes had covered the walls, the stones and the floor. A thin layer of soot was hanging in the air. The door to the Room of Requirement stood ajar. Draco had known that the burned body of Crabbe was in there somewhere. He had bit his lip and wondered if he was supposed to retrieve it. Goyle had been sitting by the wall were Draco had propped him up. The boy had been unconscious but was giving out small coughs from time to time; Draco had interpreted this as his former collaborator was not in any real danger.

He had understood how near he had been to dying in the flames himself. Harry had been like a gift from the heavens, on a broom. Draco had grabbed his hand and held on for his dear life. Climbing on to the broom behind his saviour had been hard to do with the skin falling of his hands by the heat from the fire. Well up there he had clung to Harry's body as nothing else in the world mattered. Harry had told him to hold on, like Draco would let go. Now that he finally had gotten his arms around the object of his hitherto unknown desires. When they had landed there was blood on Harry's shirt from Draco's hands.

Absentmindedly he had stood there, after the three overachievers had left, studying the burned and singed skin falling off his hands. His trousers were badly torn and somewhat burned as well. He had lost his robe and was wearing only his dirty, sweaty, shirt. But still he felt the strange comfort of actually being beyond pain and tears. Had he just fallen in love with Harry Potter? Had he done it on a broom in a magically burning room? This was a question that he would ponder deeper into later. Still Draco recognised that such a feeling was not as foreign to him as he had first thought.

Draco had heard Voldemort's All Sounding Voice asking for Harry and giving the literal deadline. He had thought for a moment of going looking for the hero himself, but had willed against it. He would only be in the way, he had decided. The new feelings that were rushing thought him would only cause irrational actions. Better stay put, he thought. Or better yet, he thought on; save, steal and take what ever he could find to save, steal and take.

As he had stood there with this very basic Slytherin thought in his mind, something had began to glow inside the burned room before him. He had slowly walked closer towards the burn-marked open door. He had not wanted to see Crabbe's body and had hesitated to look inside. He had seen nothing but the burned out shell of the room where he had been working in for several months. The light had seemed to come from the walls themselves. The room was probably trying to regenerate, he guessed, struggling with its injuries and the need for fulfilling Draco's wishes.

Suddenly Draco had been feeling guilty. He had quickly closed the door, like it was a band aid on a broken bone. Thinking that he had to move away from the corridor, he had walked over to Goyle. He had to move him as well. The room would probably be needing time alone to heal. Draco had bent down and taken hold of Goyles wrists. As he had begun to pull the unconscious boy over the ashy floor, the door had opened.

It was like the strange magical room had given a great sooty sneeze. A cloud of black dust and debris had flown out in a hard gush of magical wind though the corridor. Draco had been hit by quite a lot of burned unidentifiable pieces. He had dropped Goyle's wrists and had coughed several times to get the sudden dust storm out of his own lungs.

Again he had taken hold of Goyle and drawn him a bit further down the corridor. There Draco had left him, not longer wanted to bother himself with the heavy burden. Quite frankly, it would be better for Draco if he was nowhere near Goyle when he woke up. He had then started to walk towards the only place he thought he would feel safe, the Slytherin house. There he would also find what ever of his he needed saving.

The fighting trio had taken all the wands with them when they ran towards their victory or doom. Draco felt naked without the protection of something that could relay his magic. It was both weird and wonderful, he had thought, that wizards and witches carries all of their magic inside themselves but needs something external to really gain access to it. It had been a strange moment to think of wizarding philosophy, but then again, it had been a strange time for anything. Draco had kept walking, he had never gotten the hold of wandless magic, but he had heard rumours that Potter had.

The thought of Potter had made him slow down his stride. Again he had begun to think of the conflicting feelings he now harboured for the man. He had thought for so long that it had been hate, even envy sometimes. But then he knew that the opposite of love was not hate, but not caring at all. Draco had cared, and he did still. Some days he had barely got though for caring so much. Still he knew that he had never stood far away from Potter in his thoughts. It came to him that he had identified himself trough Potter. They were each others opposites. Opposites attract, he had thought, again with the air of philosophy.

For a moment he had stopped to study the body of one of the Weasley twins hidden behind a suit of armour. He had tilted his head, not really understanding why he felt so calm at this macabre sight. Maybe he was in shock, he had thought. Again he had looked down at his badly burned and bloody hands. How best to treat shock, he had continued his calm train of thought. Do not fall asleep and keep warm, was that it? He had looked up at the Weasley twin again. It had not looked comfortable lying like that, even if you were dead.

Draco had wondered if there was a wand on the body. Probably there was not, who ever put the Weasley twin there had certainly thought about that. It would not hurt to look though, Draco had thought on. It was against him to steal from the dead, but this was war, and he was only borrowing. He had accidentally knocked over the suit of armour fumbling with his torn hands. The clatter had echoed though the corridor, but the castle was already filled with sounds that even this very loud noise seemed to go unnoticed. If this had been a normal school night, Draco would have had at least fifty points drawn from Slytherin and probably detention puzzling together the armour again.

To be on the safe side Draco had leaned in against the Weasley and put his ear to the mans chest. He had stood there listening to the weakest of heartbeats for a couple of seconds when he felt a weak pour of hot breath on the back of his neck. Draco stood up again and made a face. The man was not dead, but clearly dying. If left there alone for even maybe an hour longer he would be beyond saving. Draco had to try and weigh his options at this time.

He could attempt to save the Weasley twin, but if he died, than Draco would get the blame. That would be a good thing, if the Dark Lord won. But then it would be a bad thing if Potter won. If Potter won it would be better to be the one to save a life that was meaningful for the light side. Draco considered this, who did he think was going to win? Who did he want to win? He wore the Dark Mark on his left arm, but then again; he might or might not be in love with Potter. Was it worth it even if Potter did not love him back? Did he care?

Still thinking, Draco had lifted the Weasley twins chin trying to see if he was conscious. The light red stubble on the twins face had scratched a little hurtfully on the burns on his hand. For a second he had thought that he had seen a flicker in the mans eyelids. Draco had thought about himself, he had made it, why not this man? He felt the Weasley twin's heart again, he could still make it. And if he did not, what had Draco got to loose? Someone had already left he man here for dead. They could even be grateful to him just for trying.

Draco had turned around, bending down. He had pulled the limp mans arms over his own shoulders reached the man's hands together in front of him. The Weasley was taller than him and the twin's feet had trailed the dirty floor behind them as Draco walked. It had been hard to hold on to the body with his numb hands. Draco had begun to sweat and some pain was trickling in his now bloody fingers. He had wondered if it even was possible to save the man, he still did it.

* * *

At least he had made it, he thought. Here he was now in this small room with his parents, not having a clue what was going to happen to him or them. This was his life, for the moment. His mother's hard fingernails on his scalp reminded him of his childhood. She had often touched him this way when she read to him or when she just was distracted. He had not let her touch him like this since he was eleven and he suddenly stared to wonder why.

He also wondered if she used to the same movement on his Father to calm him down. Would Lucius let himself get so relaxed, even in the hands of his own wife? It felt strange that Draco did not even know this about his father. Such questions had never seemed important before. His father sat down on the other side of Narcissa, finally worn out from pacing. Draco felt himself relax even more and let his mind wander of to Potter, and the true dream of him saving Draco from the flames. He finally fell asleep thinking of this.


	2. Walking the line

He was not afraid anymore. Draco did not know if that was due to the chock or if it was something else. What he did know was that he should be more scared than he was. He carried the Weasley twin in to the potions classroom. He laid him down, hidden behind the teacher's desk. He had done what he could to the unconscious body and hoped that it would be enough. After all Draco was not a healer, he was just a seventeen year old with just above standard knowledge in potions and first aid magic. He had thought about staying with the Weasley twin, but decided that he had done what ever he could do. There was no use sitting there watching someone who would may or may not die.

Anyway, sitting there would just make him feel like he was giving up. Malfoys did not give up, even if they sometimes did change directions. This thought made him smirk, don't say that to Father. He had not given up after Snape had killed Dumbledore. That had been his darkest moment, but he had not given up. Was it then he had changed direction? He did not know. Draco was smearing his hands with a slippery salve he had taken from the classroom as he walked out. The skin on his hands began to heal slowly and he felt a little less disoriented.

As he heard screams and cries echo though the corridors he walked on. He understood that all the Death Eaters had left the castle. All noise he heard now must come from what was left; the injured, the dying, and the discovery of the two previous mentioned. He was glad that they made so much noise, that way he could hear them and so also avoid them. He stopped by the body of a man in a Death Eater cape and mask lying on the floor. Pulling his lips together he bent down to remove the mask. Draco was relieved not to see long blond hair, but short brown. Draco did not remember the mans name even if he did know him by sight.

Draco rose and looked around. Where should he go now? He thought about finding his parents, but decided against it. That would mean that he had to go where there was people, people that might wanted to hurt him. For a moment he closed his eyes trying to decide his options. First he had to make himself safe somehow. He felt that is mind was reaching for something but it kept slipping out of his grasp. He was moving closer to the answer though.

His mind caught on Potter again. Why was it that the Gryffindor never really left his mind altogether? Draco already knew the answer to that question. He tried to recall the feeling of being pressed against Harry's back on to broom. He was a bit startled when the thought made his crotch twitch. It was not the first time that a thought of a man hade awoken such lusts in his body, but he was quite sure that it was the first time the man in his mind had a definite and recognizable face.

* * *

Draco was suddenly awake, still in his mothers lap. He pants were uncomfortably tight and his mother's fingers had a new move to them. She had stopped scratching him and was now almost painfully pulling his hair. He looked up, seeing his parents passionately kissing. This was a sight he had never seen before. Light pecks, kisses on hands, hugs and sometimes the light caressing of bodies. He had always wondered if this was a sign of dignity or just lack of passion. At least the discomfort in his pants was gone now.

"Mother?" he asked, not really wanting to disturb her. "You are hurting me."

She jumped in surprise, tore away from the kiss and looked down on him as she had forgotten that he was there. Her lips were swollen and red. Lucius followed suit and looked at him as well, his lips also swollen and wearing traces of lipstick.

"I am sorry, dear," Narcissa said and let go of her son's hair.

Draco sat up, his dream of Harry still not faded. His parents looked like two teenagers caught out late. His father cleared his throat and cleaned his mouth.

"Draco," he began, showing a display of uncertainty and worry that he had not shown any other person but his wife for years. "Do you think…"

His voice trailed of. Draco was amazed and actually a bit scared at this change in his assertive father. Draco sat waiting for his father to collect enough of what ever he needed to collect to finish the sentence.

"Do you think you can ask to leave the room?" Lucius finished.

Draco blinked. He looked at his mother; her eyes were full of tears.

"Take them to the Manor, get them passed the wards. Show them the dungeons…" Lucius hesitated but then his voice asserted itself. "Show them precisely what ever they want. Give them what ever they want to take."

"Father?" Draco stared at him. "What…?"

"I'm probably going back to Azkaban," Lucius said with a stony face, taking hold of his wife's hand. "I do not know what is going to happen with you, Draco, but…" He lost is nerve again. "Cissa might be going there too…"

"I would probably get lighter off if I was pregnant," concluded Narcissa, her face now covered in tears.

"Mother, no!" Draco tried not to panic.

"It is the best way," said she, trailing of in sobs and tears.

Lucius embraced her tenderly, kissing the top of her blond hair. Draco mind was racing, remembering the horrible story about his own birth. The first time he heard it he had been seven and had asked for a brother.

Narcissa had been sick for seven months, lying in bed. Then she had almost bled to death giving birth. She had not been able to walk again until about the same time Draco learned to take his own first steps.

"But…?" Draco did not find the words he wanted to say.

"I would rather die in childbirth, than being beaten and raped in there!"

His mother's emotional outburst scared Draco, bringing tears to his own eyes. Narcissa seamed surprised herself and clasped her hand over her mouth.

"You mother lied to the Dark Lord," said Lucius with a sigh. "She saved Potter's life to get to you." He kissed her hand. "If she had not, Potter would have been dead now and the Dark Lord in power." There was no feeling in his voice, making it impossible if he thought this was good or bad. "It will be known, the other prisoners would not be kind."

"But," Draco was trying to avoid the unavoidable; his parents had clearly made up their minds. "If did she save Potter, would that not count for anything?"

"That is a gamble, dear," said his mother. "It was also I who made Severus promise to kill Dumbledore. It was also I, who provided food, board and ward protection for those who stayed in our house, including the Dark Lord himself. We can not trust on them to be benign."

"You are gambling with your life and the life of an innocent child…" Draco had given up. "How do you even know that you will get pregnant?"

"It is the right time of month, fortunately," Narcissa exchanged an uncharacteristically embarrassed look with her husband. "And we were hoping you could hold them off, distract them. Try to give us time to…"

"Well I'm certainly not staying in here," harrumphed Draco and stood up.

He went over to the door and banged on it. Now that he knew his parents plan he was not going to be around watching them execute it. He banged on the door again.

"What?" a voice came from the other side.

"I want to confess!" Draco shouted to who ever were on the other side. "Let me out, and I will tell you everything!"

* * *

Draco had continued his walk though the castle, avoiding the people. Trying to find himself in safe place. Where would be safe? Not the Slytherin house, they would look there first. He had no way of getting in to the other houses. He heard the stomping of running feet. Quickly he hid behind a balustrade so that he would not be noticed. He recognised the Weasley father and Madame Pompfey. Maybe they were looking for the twin. Draco shrugged and waited until they where out of sight.

Rising from his hiding place, he stepped forward and looked around. Before he could move further there was something else moving. Draco crunched down further. The statue of the one-eyed witch that he had walked passed so many times seemed to be walking all by it self. As he watched he understood that it was the opening to a secret passage. Dracos heart sped up as Potter emerged from the darkness behind the statue. He looked sad, but very determined, and he caught sight of Draco.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" he asked. "Should you not be with your friends in the forest?"

"They are doing just fine with out me," answered Draco, not really knowing why he was saying it, they were not his friends.

"We will see about that…" murmured Potter moving away towards the direction of the Entrance hall, the wand in his hand looked very familiar to Draco. "Don't you dare to make any more trouble!" Potter shouted over his shoulder as he ran.

Draco shrugged, suddenly realising that the wand in Potters hand had been his own. Pondering this fact, Draco quickly slipped in behind the one-eyed witch that slowly was closing.


	3. Old Friends

A/N: I know that this passage leads to the candyshop in the books, but I forgot while I wrote it, don't be mad at me… I have tried to fix it.

-----

The secret door closed behind Draco. He wondered for a second how he was supposed to get out again. Then suddenly the long dim tunnel caught his interest. What had Potter been doing? Not really wanting to think about how his parents would worry about that he was suspiciously missing from the gathering in the forest; Draco stared walking through the dark tunnel.

Walking and thinking. Somehow he understood that at this moment all he lived and cared for and all that he loved was now open for the taking. His parents could actually be dead. His homes, both the Manor and the Slytherin House would soon be open to who ever won. His wand was in the hands of Potter. And Potter, Draco felt divided on this point, Potter was heading for a meeting of live and death.

The thoughts rushing round his head made him dizzy. He actually had to stop walking and lean to the dark, damp wall to find his control again. Draco did not try to fool himself with beliefs of a happy outcome. He suddenly felt the wall giving in, like a hidden door. Looking between the new entrance and the tunnel, he wondered where Potter had come from. With a shrug of his shoulders he choose the newly opened passage. From a distance he thought he heard the sound of the outside grounds and the manic whistling of branches.

Again he thought of Potter, the discovery of this strange double life his feelings had been living, shook his world. But who was he fooling? He could hear laughter ringing in his ears. If anyone ever found out about this breakthrough they would talk. And when they did… Suspicions and inconvenience and even danger and pain, was what was in store for him. Who ever would win this war, the reward for finding out the biggest secret of his life would still be the same.

Draco started walking again; the new tunnel began to lean upwards. Finally he came to a place where there was a door in the ceiling. Without really thinking of the risks, he pushed on it. Actually, he thought, there where not really any risks for him. If Death Eaters were there; they would welcome him, if the Order was there; he would just be captured. With this sense of 'come what may' he pushed the door open and climbed up on the floor of a dusty room. There were many footsteps in the dust. And there was a body too.

Draco's stomach turned. It was the body of Severus Snape. Tears began to pinch his eyes and panic suddenly trusted trough his veins. Draco ran over to where the body lay. Draco noticed that Snape was still alive too, but he seemed much worse of than the Weasley twin. For starters, there where the big gushing bite wounds in this mans neck. There was also something missing in those staring dark eyes. Draco wondered if it was the will to live. He kneeled down beside the body, taking out the potion he had used on his hands from his front pocket. There was not much left of the pink fluid. Draco soaked his hand with the last of it and began to stroke Snape's neck.

* * *

At his confessional words the door to the holding cell had been opened. A young, male Auror that he hade never seen before glared at him up and down.

"You what?" asked the man.

"I want to come clean!" said Draco.

Lucius muttered something in act behind him, his mother began to cry, not an act.

Draco winced and tried not to look back at his parents. The Auror raised an eyebrow and bit his lower lip. Draco knew exactly what he was thinking; get the honour for this and maybe get out of being a jailor and on to some real work.

"I'll show you the way in to the Dark Lords headquarters," Draco said. "I'm sure there are some supporters of Him left there…"

He was not sure at all, but that seemed to do it for the Auror. The man stepped aside, not forgetting to show Draco his raised wand. Draco had just time to see his parents launching at each other before the door was closed. He shivered at the sight and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

He was treated to a binding curse on his wrists and was roughly Apparated to no other place than the Tree Broomsticks. Draco was first a little chocked at this, but then understood that this was the most natural place for the winners to celebrate. The man seemed to hesitate again. Strangely enough, he looked to Draco for confirmation, Draco gave a nod. Well inside he saw noticed that the atmosphere of the gathered resembled more that of a wake, than that of a victory celebration.

A big black man banged his beer mug with a loud bang to the table. His brown eyes grew wide and flared with anger.

"In the name of everything holy in Camelot!" he swore. "What the fuck are you doing, Halley?"

A silence fell and every eye in the room fell on Draco and his jailor. Draco could not resist smirking and holding up his bound hands for a wave at some very tired looking Gryffindors in the corner. They did not respond to the wave, but they did not scrawl on him either.

"Sir," Halley looked nervous. "The prisoner would like to confess."

"Confess?" the black mans brows landed on his forehead.

There was strange noise going though the room. Something that sounded like a combination of laughs, snorts, gasps and bewildered inhaling. Draco tried to put on his most honest face. He knew this would not only buy his parents time, but it could also sooth his on sentence.

"I can take you inside the Malfoy Manor wards," he said. "And give you access to the whole house, including the dungeons were the D… were Voldemort have lived since his return."

"That would be useful…" said the black man, who was obviously the leader now that Potter was not there, thinking aloud.

Draco's words had silenced the whole room. He did not know what this meant. He had just confessed that he and his family had harboured the Dark Lord, but he had also confessed it!

"He said that it could still be supporters left there," said Halley, wanting to be noticed.

"What is it you are after?" asked a familiar voice next to the black man.

Draco smiled at the hollowed eyed werewolf, feeling quite relived that the man was still alive, and saddened by the fact that he knew that his wife, Draco's cousin, was not. At that point he decided to turn off his conscience and not really care any more. Caring hurt.

What was it he was after? Time? A conversation with Potter? He was quite good at disconnecting that part of his brain. The bad thing was that he only could leave the world outside when he was awake, this moment would haunt him in his sleep for a long time. But for the moment he could make himself pretend that nothing of this was real. Not even his struggling feelings for Potter.

"I just want to go home," he said with the sigh of a tired teenager. "You can understand that, can you?"

"We will come with you," nodded the black man and stood up from his seat. "My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt, Head Auror."

"Draco Malfoy," nodded Draco.

"Indeed," Shacklebolt made a sign to some of his crew. "Halley, you are coming with us."

"Yes, sir!" Halley lighted up.

Draco snorted and gave another teasing wave to the Gryffindors as he was taken outside.

He was again violently Apparated. This time he was standing outside the wards of Malfoy Manor. His heart cave an extra beat when he felt the comfort of being so close to home. Almost half the people from the pub had followed them to the spot, which were about twenty persons. They were met at the gates by three other Aurors, apparently Shacklebolt had already sent out someone to work on the wards.

"We have a blood owner," said Shacklebolt showing Draco to the three men. "He is willing to let us though."

"I can not walk through the wards as a prisoner," said Draco holding up his bound hands. "The wards are set to prevent forced entry of that kind."

"Release him," said Shacklebolt to Halley. "But no funny business, Malfoy!"

"Believe me," said Draco massaging his freed wrists. "Nothing about this business is funny… "Walk behind me."

He opened the gates, not caring if the others followed of not.

Since he was not alone, and there were so many of them, he had to say the ward incantation out loud as he passed them.

"'Save yourself and nothing else'", he chanted. "'Hold your tongue, your silence is gold. Hide a broken heart under pain.'"

"Charming," said Lupin as they had passed the last ward. "Family motto?"

"Of sort," Draco shrugged and gave loud whistle, which made everyone jump.

Seventeen House elves popped in front of the main entrance. All bowed to Draco.

* * *

The almost pretty bite wounds on Snape's neck did not seem to respond to the stroking of the potion. Draco did not want to push to hard either. He tired to keep tears from his own eyes as he saw that Snape's dark eyes had closed. The breath was really shallow. Draco began to look trough the Potionmaster's robes. It was possible that the professor could have something on him that could help. He felt a weak breath rising in Severus chest.

Draco looked though his finds. There was no wand, but he had not really expected it to be. There were three small vials of unmarked potions, some parchment with notes and some solver and copper coins. He put the money and the notes in his back pocket and began to smell the potions. The first one was clear green and smelled of salt, a potion for an upset stomach. He gulped down half the vial to steady himself and made a face. With a shrug he deposited the rest of the potion in Snape's mouth. It could not save the dying man but at least he would not die with a stomach ache. Snape seemed strangely enough to take his breaths lighter after that.

The second vial was firewhiskey; Draco disposed of that in the same way he had done the first one, but with a little salute to the dying man. He allowed himself to stoke the elder mans hand. The third vial contained something that scarcely could be identified as a liquid. It looked more like white phlegm. I smelled very strong of elderberries and almost hurt his nose as he inhaled; a sure sign that it was poisonous. Draco decided not to use this potion and put it in his other back pocket. With a sigh he took Snape's hand.


	4. Kiss

**A/N**: Based on the song "Kiss" by Korn

Draco wondered why it was always him that had to do the hard choices. The choice to leave the Weasley twin had not been this hard. But this choice was hard. He knew that there was nothing he could do for his favourite teacher, but to sit and watch him die. Why should he deny this? No meaning to look for answers that never would work or come around. The best he could do was to give Snape some company in his last minutes. He felt like a fool for not bringing something more from the potions classroom. But then again, who was he to know?

He wondered what Potter had done here before him. Had he seen Snape too? Had he judged it as a lost cause and left? Draco did not really want to blame Potter for not staying, or for maybe even believing that Snape had been dead. Snape and Potter had never been each others favourites, and Potter had more important things to do. Draco could loose so much today. Suddenly he felt like he was sinking.

* * *

Draco regarded the elves with some sadness. He did not know what would happen to them now. Not that he had ever cared before; the elves had always been there. But still it was quite sad. It reminded him about how dire the situation really was. Shacklebolt cleared his throat.

"Malfoy?" he asked starring at the elves.

"I thought you might want to interrogate them," said Draco.

"Interrogate…?" the Head Auror looked a bit confused.

"Yes, they are all collaborators."

Draco smiled as the elves began to nod and squeak things like 'me too, me too!'.

"And anyway," continued Draco. "Each search team better have an elf with them, so you won't get lost, and so you know were to search."

"Don't you know?" asked a witch suspiciously.

"Mam, I have been at school all year."

"Your father would know."

"My father is not willing to help you."

"Why are you?"

"Are we going to argue or search Voldemort's headquarters?" asked another witch irritated.

Draco opened the door and stepped aside for the Aurors to enter. He looked on as the last safe place in his life was invaded. It was strange to see his last haven disappear like this. These people would turn the house up side down; they would find family secrets and hold them against him. Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. It was if the Malfoy name was stripped down, bent over and fucked. He tried to concentrate at breathing. He stepped inside the entrance hall. The elves had already walked off with the searching parties.

Lupin was the only one that had stayed behind, apparently to keep an eye on Draco. With half a smile Draco looked at the werewolf, wondering if he did remember anything. It seemed not so. Draco sighed.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked in his best host voice and held out a hand to the front parlour.

"No, thank you," smiled Lupin. "But you have one."

"Don't mind if I do," said Draco steering towards the room.

Draco poured himself a brandy and slumped in his father's favourite chair. Lupin stood calmly by the door, looking around at the splendour of the room's design.

"Where is Potter?" asked Draco as casually as he could.

"As far as I know…" said Lupin, holding up and studying a wedding photo of Lucius parents. "He is still asleep."

"Asleep?" snorted Draco, not wanting to let on that he was worried.

"He had a quite rough night…"

* * *

Draco lent over Snape's face looking down in those vacant eyes. Again he wondered what it was that had disappeared from the professor. Strangely enough, what ever it was, it seemed to have lessened the burden in the tensed body. What could he do to lessen the pain? Draco did not know if Snape really was in pain. But there was something hurting inside himself that he could not turn away from.

He remembered that day in the tower, when Snape had taken away his task from him. Draco had been angry but grateful all the same. It felt like that now. It felt like he was being pushed with his head first into something that he knew he would eventually fail. With out really knowing what he was doing he bent over and placed a kiss on Snape's cold lips. He continued pressing down his lips on the lifeless flesh. His hand was resting on the mans chest, so that he would know when life left the body.

He had tried to kiss Snape before, the man had always pushed him away. Draco had never understood why, there had been desire between them for years. Snape had never let Draco through his outer shell. I owe everything to him, Draco thought, even my life. And now he can not catch me anymore. He let go of the kiss, whipping away some tears. With a sigh he lay down next to Snape on the floor resting his head on his shoulder, feeling the weakening beats of the hart under his hand.

Dracos whole body tensed as Voldemort's hated voice echoed though the room. He startled up on his knees looking panicky around himself. There was no one else there. He realised that the voice was all around him. _Harry Potter is dead!_

Draco froze, not listening to the voice anymore. Draco tried to breathe. He tried to stay alive. With a gasping noise he stared at the body before him. Why did happiness always push him away?


	5. Crash and Burn

**A/N: **Based on "Crash and Burn" by Savage Garden

Draco felt all alone and he cried. He had never cried so hard in his life. He clenched his hands and hit Severus chest. Then he hit it again, rage, sorrow and disappointment flowed though his body to his fists. At the third strike he made Severus cough up blood. Really panicking now, Draco startled back and hit the wall. His breath was hard and his eyes blurry. Another cough from the before lifeless body scarred him to his feet.

With shaking hands he took a step forward, placing one hand over the mans heart. The beats were wild, almost out of control. Draco did not know hearts could beat like that. He looked around in the dusty room for something, anything. Draco gasped when Severus hand grabbed hold of his shirt. The mans eyes were so rolled that only the whites were seen. The body began to spasm and something that looked like foam dribbled out from Severus mouth and nose. Draco tried to get out of the older mans death grip. The mans other hand began to desperately pat the side of the black robes, like it was looking for something there.

Draco pulled the small vial with the liquid, which was not really a liquid, out of his back pocket. He held it up in front of the sweating face.

"Is this what you are looking for?" Draco asked. "This snot-like thing?"

Severus gave a gurgling sound though the foam and blood in his mouth. Draco closed his eyes, Severus wanted to die and Draco could not blame him. He opened the vial, smelling the poison once more and flinched. With a sigh he deposited half the phlegm in to the disgusting mess in Severus mouth. He saved the rest, if he later would come to the decision to use it on himself.

* * *

Draco considered Lupin. What was he doing here? His wife was dead; he had an infant at home. Still, the werewolf was here, alone with Draco. Suddenly Draco felt a little worried. He did not know the state of the moon. He had been to busy to take any real notice. It could be half moon, maybe some days over.

"You had Dora's wand when you were captured," said Lupin out of the blue.

"I had," said Draco draining his drink. "Do you mind if I change my clothes?"

He still had on the same clothes. Draco had never worn the same clothes for over twenty hours before. These were also covered in ash, dirt, blood and sweat.

"Sure," Lupin shrugged. "If you tell me why you had Dora's wand."

"I found it," said Draco rising from the armchair.

"Where?" Lupin stepped aside but followed him as he left the room in direction for his own apartments.

"On the ground," he answered stopping in front of the Drawing room were two Aurors were stripping a seventeenth century sofa of its stuffing. "For Merlin's sake," he muttered.

"Where was she?" Lupin had also stopped, starring at the carnage.

"My cousin was on the ground too," Draco tried to make his voice calm. "She was already dead, if you are wondering…"

"Wondering what?" Lupin's voice was strained.

"If I killed her," Draco looked over at a house elf crying in the corner.

A piece of sofa stuffing fell by Draco's feet. He bent down, picked it up and let it move his fingers.

"This is the tail hair of a horse that had died for more than four hundred years ago," he told Lupin. "It puts things in perspective does it not?"

"It is hard to find relief in perspective," sighed Lupin.

"How can you be so fucking cold?!" screamed Draco at the top of his voice and rushed in to the room the Aurors were destroying. "Have you no fucking respect what so ever?!"

"Step back, Death Eater!" One of the Aurors turned his wand on Draco.

There was a small hand searching it self into Draco's. He looked down to see the crying elf. With out even thinking of rim or reason he lifted up the elf holding it like child on his hip. The elf seemed suddenly to convulse in happiness. Draco looked at the man in front of him as he was a piece of pixie shit.

"Can I remind you," drawled Draco. "That there have been no court proceedings as yet towards me or my family. All of this is still our property, and I have invited you into my home. I will be reporting this as battering by law enforcement!"

The man trembled, a little confused. With a last disdainful look at the Auror and the pointing wand, Draco turned and left the room. He almost smiled as he noticed in the corner of his eye the elf leaning back and blowing his tongue at the man.

* * *

Severus had fallen still on the floor. Draco did not dare to feel his chest any more. It was no longer important for him to know when the man died. With the sleeve of his shirt he wiped Severus face clean. He placed a last kiss on the thin lips.

"I will not abandon you," whispered Draco. "I will tell them that you are here. I will tell them where to find you."

The walls were closing in on him and he got to leave before he could not move.

He slipped down the trapdoor in the floor again. Darkness closed around him and he was ever so grateful, for even if there were no one to see his tears, he did not want to show them. Severus Snape was dead, Harry Potter was dead. He did not know if his parents were alive. It was possible that he had no home any more. He did not know who or what he was fighting for. Draco wondered how much more he could take.

The tunnel ended, but not at the back of the statue of the one-eyed witch were he had come in. He found himself climbing out of a tree on the grounds outside the castle. He did not know why this was, but it strangely made more sense to him that the tunnel should lead this way, than in to the castle. But before he had pondered this feeling any further he has hit furiously in the guts by a branch belonging to a very pissed off tree.

Draco was thrown into the air, his fall broken by landing on top of a man in black clothes. The man, a Death Eater, who had just prepared to cast Avada Kadavra, fell forward and impaled himself on his wand and the deadly curse.

After a few seconds Draco got his breath back. He felt like someone had kicked the shit out of him, but nothing seemed broken. As he sat up and looked over his shoulder he noticed the dead Death Eater. Not really caring of what he might discover he removed the mask. Crabbe senior. At least he would not have to suffer the knowledge of his son's death.


	6. Wolf Call

Stumbling Draco got to his feet. Looking around he saw the body of a woman not far off. It was clear that she was dead, for real. Her unmoving body lay contorted in an unnatural angle. As Draco moved closer he recognised her. Even though in death her hair was black, it was clear that this was his cousin Nymphodora Tonks. He bit his lip. He had never had any contact with that part of the family, still, he thought, as he bent down to take his cousins wand, it was blood relation. The wand agreed and recognised him as owner.

He felt a little safer now when he had a wand. Looking down at the body, he sighed. With a flick of his wrist he cast a _leviatus_ to arrange the woman's limbs in a more natural and peaceful position. He kneeled and put her hands on her stomach. He sat there for a couple of seconds. Not able to cry anymore, his eyes were left dry. Would he have cried for her if he could? He did not know. With a last pressure on her hands he rose. He could see movement a bit further off. Probably was it the person that Crabbe Sr had been fighting before. Draco withdrew; he did not want to be accused for the killing.

As he hurried off into the dark he suddenly heard a heartbreaking wolf howl behind him. Three more times the howling sounded. The last howl was torn by something that sounded like a human scream. Werewolf, thought Draco, it must be Nymphodora's husband. He began to move more quickly, not wanting his sent to linger to long for the man to notice. Where was he going? He felt uneasy walking around the grounds, not really having a place to hide. Draco held on tighter to the wand, tears began to burn in his eyes again.

* * *

Finally in his bedroom, Draco put the elf down on the bed. The creature's eyes were wide of wonder and admiration. It did not let his master go with his big adoring looks. Lupin stood leaning towards the doorframe. Draco did not care if the man saw him undress or not, but Lupin looked away. Draco looked though his wardrobe.

"I did not think you killed her," said Lupin with a sigh. "I saw the Death Eater kill her and I know it was not you. But did I feel your smell on her, and…" he hesitated. "I threw _previous incantem_ on her wand when they gave it to me."

Draco shrugged, but suddenly feeling very nervous.

"So you know then," he said. "Who else?"

"I know," said Lupin. "Only me… and Harry of course." He cleared his throat. "I wanted to talk to him first."

Draco nodded over this statement. He began to undress; he was holding his shirt in his hands. Ashes from the Room of Requirement, leftovers from the skin healing potion, dirt from the Hogwarts grounds, blood from Snape, sweat from several hectic hours. He sighed and gave it to the elf on the bed. The creature fainted in a state of bliss. Draco regarded the elf as he continued to undress. He did not know why he chose to put the elf free. Maybe he wanted to spare him the embarrassment of being seen as property when the Manor was taken from the Malfoy family in the oncoming trials. Maybe he should set all the elves free while he still had the power to do so. That would really confuse his captures, he smiled.

"I did not kill him, by the way" said Draco pulling on clean underwear. "He was already dying. I just made his death more endurable… more endurable than the rest of his life anyway."

"Dumbledore?"

"Snape…" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, Snape…" Lupin nodded, still confused.

"You have not found him have you?" Draco looked up and paused buttoning his pants. "I told the ones who caught me where his body was."

"And where is that?" Lupin had stepped closer.

"At the end of the tunnel by the Whipping Willow, in a dusty room…"

"The Shrieking Shack?"

"Could have been," nodded Draco, thinking, and then he was fuming; "Have no one gone there to find him?"

"I can't wait to stand trial," murmured Draco as Lupin had despatched a message of Snape's body's whereabouts. "Before I get judged I'm going to tell you about all your mistakes and overlookings."

"You can not blame things for being a bit messed up for the moment," said Lupin as Draco hid his scared flesh beneath a clean shirt. "It has been a busy few hours. We really need to talk to Harry, but we don't want to wake him."

"The Granger girl…" began Draco.

"His friends are awake, but resting too," shrugged Lupin. "There are things though, that only Harry knows."

Draco nodded. The possibility that he could lose everything before he even had turned eighteen years old made him shiver. He had finished dressing; he had chosen a nice cut black suit. Hopefully it would keep him handsome for at least twenty four hours and then acceptable for another day. At least the clothes were intact.

At this moment, in a small penitentiary cell at the Ministry of Magic his mother's faith and life was decided by pure chance. Draco sighed and looked over at Lupin who seemed lost in his own thoughts.

* * *

He hurried, as fast as he could under the circumstances, over the grounds towards the castle entrance. His chest still hurt from the hard strike he had got earlier from the tree. Thankfully it was quite dark outside so the people gathered outside the castle did not notice him. They were too occupied with taking care of the dead and injured anyway. As Draco moved closer, someone suddenly came running out from the castle. The words that were spoken made Dracos heart beat so hard and painfully that he fell to his knees.

"Potter is fighting the Dark Lord!"


	7. Giving away Freedom

Draco was rummaging though his sock drawer. Not really wanting to give the House elves any of his nicer silk socks. He looked for some cheaper ones further in. It did not seem possible that he would get to bring any of his nice clothes with him if he was going to Azkaban. But then again it went totally against him to waste absolutely good socks on creatures that only would use them as head-dresses. He glanced at Lupin and growled as he realized something.

"You must be quite happy now," Draco said stuffing his pockets full of socks.

"What do you mean?" Lupin looked up in anger, the hidden wolf peering though.

"Down, boy," muttered Draco. "I do not mean your wife, I'm sorry about her. I mean about your son."

"What about Teddy?"

"Have you not figured it out yet?" Draco sneered and walked passed Lupin out of the room. "I am the last Malfoy!" He did mot have any faith in his parents last desperate act. "By blood, the heir to everything that surrounds us, and more, is my mother's sister Andromeda Black. And her heir is your son."

Lupin gasped as he followed Draco though the rooms back to the sitting room.

"It was nice of Shacklebolt to leave you with me," continued Draco. "A little accident and you'll get the lot."

"That is outrageous!" protested Lupin. "How dare you?"

"I'm just telling things as I see them."

"You are talking like you already were in Azkaban, or dead."

"Am I not?" asked Draco with a sneer. "I have raped your hero, have I not?"

* * *

Draco wondered if one could go insane by jumping from extreme emotions too fast. He starred at the entrance of the castle to where the words had come. The first thing he wanted to do was to run there as fast as he could. But then he realized that he would actually see Potter die for real this time. He could not stand to have his heart broken for a third time in one evening. With that thought Draco froze to the spot. If Potter died, where would that leave him?

What would be Draco Malfoy's task in the new wizarding order under Voldemort? And further more… he continued thinking. What would Draco Malfoy's task be if Potter survived? Potter could be taken prisoner, or… Draco's mind was rising. What would happen to him if Potter won? Draco looked down at his cousin's wand. They would know it was hers, and they would think that he stole it from her. Maybe he just should let it go. But then he would be out of protection.

Potter, he thought again and began to move slowly towards the castle, avoiding stepping on or over the bodies before him.

He had never really thought about what would happen after the war. He had guessed he would just continue to follow orders. But what would those orders be? There were going to be muggle killings, he knew that. Every effort Draco had been involved in had just been about the war. Planning, scheming and fighting. He had never heard what would happen later. There had been vague hits that Snape might need a potions assistant… But what now, when Snape was dead? Draco bit his lip as he slowly climbed the stairs to the big door. If Potter survived, would the Dark Lord give him to Draco if he asked?

As he stood in the surprisingly empty entrance hall Draco suddenly felt faint. There was suddenly a horrible scream tearing though his head binging him down on his knees. He pressed his hands to the sides of his head trying to turn out the horrible sound. Then he felt a stinging pain in his left arm. Draco tore up his shirtsleeve looking down at the Dark Mark slowly fading away. It was… This was… What… Merlin! Fuck! Potter! Harry! The Dark Lord! Mother! Father!

"Draco!" he heard the desperate call of his mother hidden in the cheering coming from the Great Hall. "Draco!"

Without thinking of the consequences Draco opened the doors to the Great Hall. There were people cheering, screaming, laughing, and even singing. Nobody really seemed to take notice of him, and those who did; they did not seem to care. Someone pointed at him and laughed, someone else made him a rude gesture. Draco did not care, he saw his parents on the other side of the room. They stood against the far wall trying to stay out of everybody's way.

He raised his hand and waived to them. He was quite tall and his hair was, as always, easy to spot in a crowd. His mother burst in to tears at the sight of him, his father held up his hand. Draco realized that it was impossible to get to them without getting a mob on his heals. With a waiving hand gesture he signed to his father that he was going to try the Halls backdoor. Lucius did not look happy about this but gave a nod.

* * *

"Did you?" whispered Lupin in chock.

Draco did not answer. He had stopped in front of the stairs leading down to the dungeons. He could hear people down there rummaging away. It was doubtful that Voldemort would have left anything interesting down there. With a glance at Lupin's chocked face he descended the stairs. He was met by the sight of five aurors knocking on every stone on the downstairs corridor with their wands. Shacklebolt was one of them, Draco recognized a Weasley there as well, but could not tell witch one it was, not the weasel or a twin anyway.

"Are you looking for something?" asked Draco pulling out a sock from his pocket.

Shacklebolt looked at him.

"Any hidden passages we should know about?" he asked. "It would save us time."

"Why did you not ask to begin with?" snorted Draco casually handing the sock to the House elf standing newt to the stairs.

Shacklebolt's dark wide eyes darted between the elf making choking noises and Draco.

"Where is Lupin?" asked the Weasley, Draco knew him not to be Bill, the one who had been attacked by Greyback, there would be scars.

"He had to take a break," said Draco calmly walking passed him to the far wall of the corridor.

"A break from what?"

"Me, I guess." He pointed at the wall. "Three taps on this stone, one on this and two on this."

* * *

As Draco tried to get to the other side of the Great Hall he was sidetracked by one of the few moving stairs that had not yet given up its gist. A little turned around he suddenly stood in front of the Gryffindor House entrance. The painted Fat Lady was celebrating with some other paintings with in her frame.

"Malfoy?"

Draco turned around to see Potter. The boy looked tired, hardly able to stand. Draco's heart fluttered, wanting to hold out his hand to support him.

"Are you here to kill me?" asked Potter.

Draco stood back, not really knowing the answer to the question.


	8. The Talk

"Can we talk?" asked Draco.

Potter tilted his head, studying him. The hero finally took a deep breath.

"Fine," he said. "I thought of asking Kreacher to bring me a sandwich, but I guess that you will do."

"Are you sure?" Draco gave him half a smile, not knowing if he should be honoured or not to be called the exchange of food.

Again Potter studied him Draco felt the knot that had tied in his stomach at the death of Snape slowly detangle. Draco was irritated with himself for not having the strength of mind to hold himself to one determination at a time.

"I already died once today. Jingle bells!" The picture frame opened at the sound of the password. "Actually, now that I think about it, it was the highlight of the day," added Potter with a sad murmur.

Draco followed Potter into the Gryffindor common room, a place that he only had seen before in short glances; it was less shabby than he expected.

"Do you mind if we talk in the prefect's room?" asked Potter. "He went to look after the first years. I'm really tired and the others are going to crash in here at any moment."

Draco nodded, weighing his cousin's wand in his hand.

As Draco followed Potter up the stairs he considered his options. He could kill him, as had been suggested. But for what reason would he do that? Would it be revenge? Maybe vindication? For what?

Draco had admitted to himself that he had fallen in love with Potter, but was that enough? It was clear to Draco, by looking at the boy's back, how tired the champion was. Potter had said that he had died; Draco would not doubt his word on this. How did Potter even dare to turn his back on him?

Inside the Gryffindor house's prefects room Potter closed the door behind them.

"Talk, Malfoy," sighed Potter starting to disrobe.

He was wearing a very dirty travelling robe and underneath an ordinary sweatshirt and blue Muggle pants. Draco looked down at his own clothes and winced. Damn it all to hell, he thought biting his lower lip, he was lost anyway. Potter stood still, waiting for him to speak. With two strides he stood before the other boy pressing his lips to his own.

Forcefully Draco pushed his tongue in between the exhausted hero's lips. Potter's arms hang limp by his sides. He was neither fighting nor encouraging the kiss, he just stood there and let his mouth get violated by Draco's sucking, biting and licking. Draco began to get frustrated by Potters inability to respond to his touch. He stepped back, looking in to the green eyes.

"Is that all?" asked Potter in a worn-out tone. "I'm really tired you know…"

With growing anger and frustration Draco watched as Potter jerked of his sweatshirt reviling a very bruised and battered torso. The damn casualty in with Potter displayed himself in front of him made Draco furious. This boy, this man, had just killed the greatest wizard ever lived and now he just stood there undressing. What was wrong with him?! Draco clenched his fists. Potter began to push of his shoes and socks. Draco clenched his eyes together, trying to make sense of his feelings and thoughts.

Not able to control the chaos of this mind, Draco cracked and opened his eyes.

"Was it anything else?" asked Potter, thumbs down the waistline of his pants. "If not, I'm off to bed."

Draco gritted his teeth. He stepped forward again grabbing the wand sticking out of the man's back pocket. With fuming breaths he held the wand in his fist before Potters wide eyes

"This. Is. Mine." Draco bit off.

"Yeah, thanks for the lend."

With this Draco seized hold of Potter pushing roughly him down bed. Taking hold of Potters legs he rolled the man over on his stomach.

"Wha…?"

Draco cast a binding spell with his own wand that fastened Potter to the bed. Clutching hold of the waistline of the despicable muggle pants Draco pulled them down and off the legs of the immobilized man. He cast another spell spreading Potter legs and binding them.

"Malf…"

"Shut the fuck up!" screamed Draco and cast a silencing spell.

He then threw the wand that killed the Dark Lord over his shoulder. Climbing up on the bed on his knees he began to unfasten his trousers. He was hard and the sight of the smooth arse before him was pushing away the bad thoughts he had had the last few hours.

"Stupid, bloody hero…" murmured Draco between his teeth. "Thinking he is so high and mighty…"

Potter did a half-heartedly try to say something and moved uncomfortly. Draco smacked Potter hard on the hip with his palm.

"I said shut the fuck up!"

He pulled his cousins wand cast a quick lube spell on himself and threw this wand over his shoulder too. Without any further ado he slipped himself into Potters tight crevice with a single hard thrust.

There was a muffled scream from Potter. Buried so far in he could get in, Draco took a breath, feeling the warmth abound his shaft. As he did a second thrust and pushing himself deeper, the tears began to fall. Draco cried as he rocked his hips violently. Tears falling down on Potter's back.

"I hate you," Draco cried. "Fuck, I love you."

Images were hurling though his mind. There was the fire and his burned hands. His burned hand clasped in Potter's hand. The abandoned castle corridors. The dead and dying. The howl of a werewolf in pain.

Draco arced back as he came frantically. He could feel Potter shaking and grunting beneath him.

Draco lay panting and spent on Potters back, his nose pressed to the back of the man's neck. He wished that he could stay like this. Again there was a small movement and Potter clenched his arse cheeks around Dracos spent cock. The pressure brought Draco back to the present and reality.

He pulled back getting up on his feet on to the floor. The realisation of what he just done came to him as he looked down at the sight before him. He could see an exasperated green eye glaring up at him over Potters shoulder.

If he did not get Azkaban for what he already done, this would be the thing that tilted the scales. But actually, he thought as he traced pattern with his forefinger trough his own come on Potters arse, he was not sorry. He was not sorry for buggering the slayer of Voldemort just minutes after the victory. Potter shivered.

Finding his cousins wand again on the floor he cast a cleaning spell on himself. He looked down at his dirty trousers round his ankles. He would do anything not to dress in those rags again. But he had to. If he was caught in clean but torn clothes or worse, borrowed Gryffindor robes, there would be someone up checking on Potter. And then Draco would never see his parents again, because his captures would kill him on the spot.

He pulled up his pants and buttoned them. He had not taken his shirt off and he now stuffed it down the waistline. Draco looked around and caught sight of his on wand on the floor. He picked it up and looked at his victim.

"Potter?" he asked almost tenderly. "H…Harry?"

As he stepped closer he saw that Potter was unconscious, or just asleep, he could not tell. Carefully he raised his wand and released the binds. There was not movement, but the small breaths that moved the man's body.

Even more confused that he ever had been before, Draco released the silencing spell as well. Only light snores were heard. Draco was actually surprised, but then again, Potter had been very tired. Quite contrary to his later actions, Draco crawled up on the bed placing a light kiss on the man's lips. He was really loosing his mind now, he thought.

* * *

Shacklebolt tapped the bricks in the order Draco had explained. There was a rustling noise and the wall of bricks opened up to the hidden room.

"Stand back," said Shacklebolt sending in a search spell to the room.

There was some sudden disturbance and a couple of shouts. The aurors rushed in with their wands drawn. Draco stood back, but was suddenly hit by a gust a blue spell knocking him over.


	9. Time Together

It was strange, thought Draco. The further away he got from the Gryffindor tower he came the more closer he felt to it. He was on his way to the Great Hall backdoor. His parents would be wondering were he got to. Draco thought of what had just happened with Potter. It scared him, but only just a little, that he did not feel guilty at all. Everything he had said and done in that tower had been coming from his heart. The dark corners of his heart, that was true, but what ever happened, he must trust himself.

Suddenly he wondered if it had been Potter's first time. Now a small trickle of guilt leaked trough his armour. Draco had reached the back door. He held his cousins wand in his hand. It had hurt him to leave his own behind with Potter, but it could buy him more time. He had dispensed the remains of the phlegm poison in Potter's mouth, and then he had kissed him. At least in his sleep Potter had responded to him. The poisonous kiss was still lingering on Draco's mind.

He had guessed, correctly, that the poison would take time to work on him. Snape had already been poisoned and Potter, Harry, was exhausted. All Draco felt at this moment was relief. He felt open like never before. He wished that he could have stayed with Harry during his last moments. But he had promised his parents to come to them. Promises where never empty words to him, and that was that.

Draco stepped inside the Great Hall; he was immediately caught by two Aurors. He was quickly disarmed and wrestled to the ground. He did not make much resistance, just a little for show. He heard his mother scream his name. There were still rumbling and rejoicing in the Hall. Draco could not see this though, his head was pushed hard down to the stone floor.

"Put him with his parents," he said someone say.

The next thing he knew he was thrown roughly in his fathers arms. Lucius caught his son more gentile than anyone could have thought of him.

The small family sank down to the floor. Narcissa hugged Draco close to her, and Lucius held his protective arms around them both. They did not say anything. They did not look at the spontaneous victory feast. Narcissa's forehead touched Draco's; they both leaned against Lucius chest. He began to feel sleepy. Again he thought about those who died and on the one he had just killed. Tears began to stream down his face again.

"Dragon?" said Cissa in a motherly voice. "Don't worry, you'll make it fine."

Lucius hugged them both tighter to his chest as Draco succumbed to the potion.

* * *

Draco woke up in his own bed; Lupin was sitting on the side of the bedspread. Strangely enough, the two house elves that he had freed, lay curled together by the foot of the bed, sleeping. Judging from the dark sky outside the window, Draco had been out for several hours. He stretched his painful limbs and made all his joints crack almost at the same time.

Lupin looked up as he stirred. The werewolf looked very tired, and there were deep worried lines over his forehead.

"Take it easy," he said. "You got hit by several stunning spells. There were three Imperio guards in the basement. We have sorted them out."

"Glad I could help," grunted Draco.

"Draco?"

"Mmm?" Draco stretched again, releasing some more cracks from his body.

"What did you do to Harry?"

Draco blinked, not wanting to meet the man's light blue eyes. He noticed that there were two wands in Lupin's hands, Nymphodora's and Draco's. They must have been to see Harry; they had looked at the wand, examinating it. Draco wondered if they had seen the Dark Lord when they searched though the wands previous spells. Lupin was still waiting for his answer. Anyway, they would know that he had tied Harry down and cast a silencing spell on him

"I have already told you," sneered Draco without showing guilt.

"We… I… I understand that you… raped him," Lupin's face grimaced badly. "But he is not waking up. Poppy says that it is a potion, she can not give him anything until before she knows what it is."

"Can't be the potion…" Draco frowned, not caring that he just confessed.

"Why not?" asked Lupin standing up. "What was it?!"

"I don't know," spit Draco. "I thought it was poison, I thought we were both going to die!"

"'Both'? Did you take it too?"

"I did not want to live without him," Draco turned his back to Lupin at this new confession.

He closed his eyes and cried again.

"Where did you get to potion?" asked Lupin.

"Snape."

"That is convenient," the werewolf sighed. "Snape is not in the Shack, nor is he anywhere else on the Hogwarts grounds. Believe me, we have looked."

"His body is gone?" Draco sat up straight in bed; his back ached by the sudden movement. "How can that be?"

"It stood up and walked away…"

* * *

When Draco woke up he wondered why he was not dead. He was lying in a small bed in a small room. Slowly he looked to his side and saw his parents sitting on the floor. Narcissa's cheeks were white with salt from dry tears. She was sleeping quietly to her husbands shoulder. Lucius just looked stern, though he seemed to lighten a little when he noticed that Draco was awake and even gave him a small smile.

"Father?" asked Draco, his throat dry.

"We were worried," said Lucius in a low tone, slowly waking his wife. "You have been asleep for over ten hours. No one could wake you, not even with spells."

"Draco!" cried Narcissa sleepily and tore her way up to the small bed to embrace her son. When she had finished, she grabbed his arms painfully hard. "Do not ever dare to do that again! Do you hear me?!"

"Yes mother," squeaked Draco under the force of her voice.

It was then that Lucius began to pace the room.


	10. Lost Memory

He woke up under a table in what seemed to be a classroom. Every part of his body hurt like it had been though a shredder. He gasped to suck in some more air and felt ripping, burning, and pain through his chest. It was the feeling of intense worry that finally made him move. He grunted in pain as he rolled over to his side. For a couple of seconds he breathed though gritted teeth. Again he moved to raise his legs and turned again. He lay on his knees and pushed his forehead to the floor. He lay like that for a while, struggling not to pass out. Trying to remember where he was, and, he suddenly realised, who he was.

After some time, he did not know how long, he felt the strength to push up to a seating position. Throbbing pain rippled trough his spine and head. For a short moment he wondered where someone called George was, and if he was ok. His running thoughts where interrupted by a horrible loud, hissing, voice announcing that Harry Potter was dead. He knew that name sounded familiar somehow. How did he know that name? And why did it make him sad to hear that the man was dead? And what was it more the voice had said? Surrender or die? The most horrible thing was that he realised, that whoever the voice belonged to, he was going to die even if he surrendered.

He got to his feet. Looking around, it was defiantly a classroom. There were strange bottles everywhere in the glass cupboards. He looked at his hands, not recognizing them. This was not good, he thought. He must have some recollections of himself. He closed his eyes trying to remember, flashes of red hair come to him. He also remembered things like exploding, biting, puking, a lot of laughing and flying, hitting a strange ball with a bat. With a painful grunt he started to walk to the door. There must be something out there that could make him remember.

* * *

He awoke feeling like he wanted to hit somebody. There was dust on the floor and it made him sneeze. The force of the sudden exhale sent tinges of pain to his neck. He reached up and felt a strange moistness. He looked at his hand and saw it covered in blood. He winced, trying to make some sense of it all. Why was he felling so irritated and angry with the world. Because the world is a shithole, he thought to answer himself. He looked around wondering were he was, and, he suddenly realised, who he was.

It was a shabby dusty house; no one would have lived there for years. It seemed vaguely familiar. As he tried to remember, images of a black dog and a stag came to him. A dog and a stag, together in a house? And was there another dog too? He remembered being attacked by a vicious dog in this house, at least that was clear to him. Was that why he was bleeding? He looked around, wondering if the dog was still there. He could fell hatred bubbling inside him, but strangely enough, he felt that he hated the stag more than the dogs. Has he lost his mind as well as his memory?

He got to his feet trying to make sense of it all. He was inhibited in his movements by the strange big coat he was wearing. It was a staggering number of buttons he had to get through before he could get the coat off. All the pockets were empty. There hung a dusty, broken mirror on the wall. He staggered over to it, cleaning the glass with his shirtsleeve. The face that met him was about forty, had shoulder long black hair and dark stubble over the chin. It was also covered in blood. He tried to smile at the image, but there was no recollection at all. Even the smile seemed off.

He stepped outside the house dipping the corner of the coat in a rain puddle. Slowly he began to wash away the blood. Suddenly he heard voices from inside the house. He listened.

"The Malfoy brat said that Snape's body was here," said a man.

"Well where is it then?" a woman asked.

"How should I know?" the man sounded irritated.

"There is blood here. Maybe he is still alive."

"Just what we need," sighed the man. "Another murderer on the lose."

"We must report this."

Then there were two popping sounds. He stood up. Was he a murderer? Who had he murdered? And that name, Snape, was that his name? He did not like it. The best thing was to get out and get as far away as possible.

* * *

He was standing in front of a mirror feeling more confused than ever. The man in there had red hair, light skin, some freckles, quite handsome, and his name was George. The strange thing was that he was not George. The man in the mirror was George, not he. Something had gone very wrong in his head somewhere. There was the pain, maybe that was it. Maybe George was under the pain? Did that even make sense?

As he stepped back from the mirror he felt something under his foot. He looked down. It was some kind of stick. I could use a stick like this, he thought not knowing why. Something caught the side of his eye. In an alcove lay a man in a black coat and an ugly black mask. There was blood on the mask. He took a step forwards.

"You there!" someone screamed at him. "Don't move."

Thinking of a place to hide, he turned around so fast that he heard a popping sound, and suddenly he was standing somewhere completely different. The pain and the sudden surprise were too much for him and he fainted.

* * *

Snape, he had taken the name even if he did not like it, at least it was a name. He had no idea were he was going. All he knew was that he got to get away. There had been a village not far from the old house, but he had walked the other way, thinking that is was best to avoid people all together. He had begun to mutter swearwords and accusations to himself. Hopefully something would come out of his mouth that could remind him of something. He climbed over a fence on to a field. In the back of his mind he knew he was heading for the ocean.

As Snape stepped down from the fence he stepped on something soft. There was a whining sound. He looked down; there was a young man on the ground. First he wanted to run, but then he recognized the man in some way. Red hair, but not green eyes, the man had chestnut eyes. Snape bent down and looked at him, trying to remember.

"I know you…" said the man. "Who are you?"

Snape sneered, also something that felt very familiar. Not wanting to use a probable murderer's name Snape said the first name coming to him

"Prince"

"George," the man said, not sounding convinced over the statement.

It was soon clear to both men that neither of them had any memories of either themselves or what had happened to them. George remembered being in a castle and had said that he had heard a voice saying that Harry Potter was dead. The name had reminded Snape of the hated stag from the old house, and he felt quite good over this news. George showed Snape the stick he had found, and Snape suddenly felt angry because he did not have a stick of his own.

"Do you want it?" asked George holding the stick out.

Snape wanted to scold the young man, never, ever leave your… what? Your stick? With out a word he grabbed the stick and placed inside his big coat. It was perfectly clear that the man was not responsible enough to have a stick. In fact, now that he was thinking about it, he would not trust the man to have anything. There was a teasing streak in the young man's handsome face he did not like, and quite frankly it scared him.


	11. Who is in my Bed?

"The Hogwarts hospital wing is damaged," said Kingsley with a sigh. "St. Mungos is overcrowded. We have no way to get in to the Order headquarters with the Secret Keeper dead and its owner now in a coma, the house has closed itself up completely."

"What are you saying?" asked Charlie Weasley, frowning.

They were standing in one of the many Malfoy salons, surrounded by centuries of splendour. They were walking around putting monitoring spells in every room. It had been a worrying amount of damage done to the Malfoy property by self-appointed retaliators.

"I'm saying," sighed the Head Auror, "that we can not put Mr. Malfoy back in the penitentiary."

"Why? After what he done to Harry…!"

"This house is our best option for a temporary sick ward, the crisis centre and our headquarters. Until the court says otherwise Lucius Malfoy is still the owner of the property. Since I much rather deal with the son, we will keep him here to gain access to the house.

"What of the elves?" growled Charlie casting a glance at an elf with a green sock as headwear standing by a bookshelf actually reading a book almost the size of herself. "Why have they stopped helping us?"

"Mr. Malfoy has freed them all."

"How? He has been locked to his room since the attack."

"Apparently, the already freed elves have been distributing his socks over the house."

"Brat!"

"He explained to me that he does not want the elves to belong to the house if the court decided to take it away from the family." Kingsley sighed.

"Sir?" there was a knock on the door and a witch called Mary popped her head in. "Madame Pomfrey is here with Potter."

"Put him in the best room in the house," said Kingsley.

"Where is that?" asked the witch.

Kingsley and Charlie looked at each other.

"Hissy know!" squeaked the house elf and hugged the big book she had been reading happily to her chest. "Hissy will show room for you!"

* * *

Draco counted twelve elves in his bed, all asleep. Sleeping, apparently, was the elves favourite way to spend their free time. And since he had allowed them to use his bed for the resting, they had also stayed out of the liquor cabinets. He had been happy to find that they still gave him their loyalty, and as long as he asked them nicely, they would still do anything he asked of them. Thanks to this fact he now had spies all over the Manor. In spite of his incarceration he probably had more knowledge of the goings on in the house than any of his captures.

It had just gone by about thirty hours since he left his parents to their own devices. He did not want to know what these devices were, but he still worried about them. He rose from his armchair, his favourite place ever since young childhood, and poked the elf with the shirt. The creatures had in some way elected the first freed elf as their leader.

"Tibbit?" Draco asked.

The elf stirred and looked up on him with its big, yellowish green, eyes.

"Yes, Mast… mister?"

"Could someone please go and see to my parents?"

"Oh yes, Mast… mister!" Tibbit jumped roughly to his feet, waking some of his kin in the process. "Tibbit will, Tibbit will! He misses mistress… Oh! Tibbit means 'lady'"

Draco smiled as the elf Disapparated with a pop. He returned to his armchair and the reading. The elves had fetched him books on wizarding law from all over the Manor. He was going down, he knew that. He could get quite a hard sentence, especially after what he had done to Potter. The fact that the man had not woken up yet was also worrying. It had been established that the coma was a result of the potion. But nobody knew what the potion had been, or why Draco was not in a coma too. He was not going down without a fight. The courtroom would be his last battle field and he was going to be prepared.

His thoughts escaped to Severus. Draco wondered were he would have gotten to. He was so sure that the man had died, but then again, Draco had not stayed to listen to the heartbeats ebb out. Perhaps the potion was adjusting itself to the consumer, a very tricky thing. Draco knew enough about potions to know that this defeat was proof of a pure brewing genius. He smiled; he always knew Severus had had it in him. What hurt him was that he also knew that Severus never thought so himself.

There was a popping sound, and Draco looked up expecting to see Tibbit returning with news about Lucius and Narcissa. Instead it was another elf, the one he had asked to follow Shacklebolt around. She breathed heavily with excitement, a sure sign that she was carrying news that Draco would like. She was clutching a big law book in her arms. Draco guessed that she had found a useful paragraph in the text that could help him with his case. He could not be more surprised when the elf opened her mouth to speak.

"Hissy has seen Harry Potter!" she announced happily.

Draco sat up at this.

"Where?!"

"Intruders put sleeping Potter in lady's room. Hissy showed them where."

"Did they say why?" Draco began to pace, worried, not sure if this was a good or bad thing.

"Everywhere else is broken!" informed Hissy proudly. "Hissy helped so Mister could use secret walkway!"

Draco's mind raced.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door, it opened with out waiting for an answer. It was Lupin and Madame Pomfrey. He looked distraught, she looked stern. Darco nodded.

"Thank you, Hissy," he said taking the big book from her. "You can go rest, if you want to."

"Mr. Malfoy," said Pomfrey, quizzingly eyeing the pile of elves on the bed. "I need to ask you an important question."

"Yes?" Draco sat down in his armchair, starting to leaf though the book, pretending that his heart was not beating out of his chest.

"Did Professor Snape give you anything to eat or drink on regular bases?"

Draco looked up on her while he considered the question. It did not seem to be any harm in answering.

"I was given a potion for nightmares, after…" he grimaced, "…after the night on the tower. I have been taking it every night until I got here."


	12. PostWar Trouble

Three house elves climbed up on the great dinner table in the dining room. They slowly began to dismantle the flower ornaments. The Order gathered around the table, with Kingsley Shacklebolt at the far end, tired their best to ignore them.

"We have found the vial that contained the potion…" began Auror Jones. "…we have analysed the residue and found it to be a very strong mixture of healing magic and brewing. Professor Snape has really outdone himself on this one."

"It is based on snake venom," said Pomfrey. "Witch leads us to think that Professor Snape has expected this for a long time."

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur Weasley.

"I have been worried about Severus appearance for a long time," said Pomfrey. "I thought it was because he worked with potion fumes all day… Now I begin to suspect that he has taken the venom for a long time to build up resistance."

"But what about Draco and Harry?" asked Shacklebolt.

"We guess that the nightmare potion Mr. Malfoy has received contained small amounts of the venom as well…"

"Why?" asked Ronald Weasley. "I thought Snape liked Malfoy."

"Don't you see?" said Hermione Granger. "He wanted to protect him, make him resistant too."

"But what about Harry?" asked Arthur.

"He is not resistant," sighed Pomfrey.

"Harry lost part of his soul when Voldemort died," said McGonagall. "Professor Dumbledore's portrait told me that part of Harry's soul was a Horcrux, it died."

"What is a Horcrux?" asked Shacklebolt.

"Voldemort had a piece of his soul inside Harry," explained Lupin. "When he died, a part of Harry died."

"What does this all mean?"

"Harry is poisoned…" sighed Pomfrey.

"But I thought you said it was a healing potion," exclaimed Charlie.

"For those who are resistant… I think," she shrugged. "We are giving him anti-venom for now.

"The venom?" asked Hermione, who seemed to be thinking very hard. "Do you think it came from Voldemort's snake?"

"It is possible," Auror Jones nodded. "We have the snake's body, we can compare the venoms. Why?"

"Cause the snake was a Horcrux too," she continued. "Do you think the potion is trying to heal Harry's soul?"

"Are you saying that Voldemort's soul is trying to resurrect in Harry?"

"No, no!" Hermione held up her hands. "Every piece of soul is dead, Harry saw to that. I mean, the healing potion is so strong, and incensed by the magic link of dead horcruxes…"

"And the wound of a missing soul…" Ron filled in, catching up.

"Even if the part was really bad…" continued Lupin.

"You can not heal a dead soul," Pomfrey shook her head. "He will be in a continuous healing coma."

"Damn it!" Charlie banged his fist to the table, making the three elves sitting by the table ornament distributing flowers amongst themselves, squint at him. "Why is Malfoy still here? He is a rapist and a murderer! Why is there not a trial?"

"The Ministry is in an uproar," Arthur sighed. "Three judges, two law council members and four defenders have been identified as Death Eaters, or at least cursed to be. And that is just in the law department. The minister is dead, for Merlin's sake! Nearly every member of staff has family or friends dead, injured or under suspicion. There can be no trials until order has retuned."

All members around the table murmured at this.

"Any news of Snape?" asked Shacklebolt. "Maybe he can help since it is his potion."

"No trace what so ever," declared Auror Notter from almost the other side of the long table. "All we know is that it is his blood in the Shrieking Shack. There is a good amount of it."

"We are testing it for the venom theory," said Jones.

"Good," Shacklebolt nodded. "Anything else?"

"What about Draco's parents?" asked Neville Longbottom, for the first time raising his voice to the room.

"Strangely enough," said Halley. "They are the only ones of the prisoners not complaining."

"What are they doing then?" asked Lupin.

"From what I heard," Halley cleared his throat. "They are having sex."

"Sex?"

"Nearly not even stopping to eat or sleep."

"They are up to something," said Charlie.

"We can not accuse a married couple for being up to something just because they are having sex," snorted Jones.

"What of your son?" Shacklebolt tried steering the subject away.

"We don't know…" Arthur Weasley looked down at his hands. "We can not find Fred's body anywhere."

"We hid him behind a suit of arms," said Ron and swallowed. "We thought he was dead. If… if he was alive… he would not get far…" His eyes were misty. "Not in the state he was in…"

"Someone must have helped him…" Arthur closed his tired eyes. "Or someone has carried the body away… maybe to use…"

"Bill and Percy are out looking now," Charlie filled in. "George is catatonic."

"I have him in the big parlour upstairs," said Pomfrey. "I transfigured it to a field hospital."

* * *

Draco listened to the three elves review of the Order meeting. They had decorated themselves in pieces of table ornaments, he found it kind of endearing.

It was quite concerning finding out that Severus had poisoned him, but then again it had saved his life. A life he had not wanted to be saved. He was still contemplating his actions from that night. Why had he wanted Harry dead, and why had he wanted to die with him? The second question was easier to answer than the first.

The mention of his parents only confirmed what Tibbit had told him. They were still up to their plan. Though he wondered how long it would take for their baby making to turn into passion and desperate need. This could actually be their last time together. Draco did not like to think of his parents in the position they now were in, but he understood far to well. Had he not himself thought that it was the last time, when he took Harry?

It also disturbed him that they had not found the twin. Fred, was it?

Draco rose from his armchair and began to pace. A plan began to form in his head, but first he got to see Harry. It was easy enough to get to his mother's room though the secret passage. He had used it many times as a child and knew it well. It had primarily been built to give generations of Malfoy mothers a shortcut to the nursery. Draco needed a distraction.


	13. Meeting with Mr Weasley

Hissy popped back to Draco's room looking embarrassed and flushed. She was clutching a parchment to her tiny chest as it was the last life raft on a stormy sea. Draco would not imagine what she had seen.

"You done very good, Hissy," said Draco with his most soothing voice giving the elf a pat on her head.

The elf beamed and handed the parchment over. She then hurried over to her kin on the bed, settling down for a rest. Draco unrolled the letter from his father.

There was some amount of scolding over letting all the elves free and for letting their accent home be submitted to the disgrace of being enemy headquarters. Lucius admitted that he had said 'give them anything', but he did not like it one bit. Then came what Draco had asked for. A long list of every name, location, fact and spell Lucius knew that were connected to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Some of the mentions surprised even Draco. He sat down in his chair sorting out the lists so that he could use the information to his own profitable end.

Everything that he would not use for his distraction could be used in the sometime upcoming court proceedings. He gave the list to the elves to hide so the Aurors could not find it in their crude and unplanned searches of the house. First he needed to get on his captures good side, or at least better side. He opened the door to look out on his guard, a young witch, not much over twenty. He gave her his most handsome smile and asked to talk to Arthur Weasley.

* * *

On the floo with his wife, Arthur was quite taken aback with Draco's request to see him. He exchanged some reassuring sentences with Molly and left for Draco's room. His back was aching as much as his head. Too tired to be any more worried than he already was, he walked the house's lavished corridors. He was not jealous at the wealth, his own poverty outweighed by happy and loving family and friends. Despite that, he could not help to be impressed by the mahogany room he entered for his meeting.

Hesitantly Arthur shook Draco's outstretched hand.

"Mr Weasley, nice to meet you."

"I… well… Hello."

"Would you like to sit down? Tea?"

"Thank you," Arthur sat down in a steady old armchair with gold frames and blue cushions. "What did you want to see me about?" His eyes flashed to the heap of elves on the bed.

"I just wanted to inquire about your son, Fred." Draco filled a teacup with steaming tea. "Sugar? Milk?"

"What do you know about Fred?" asked Arthur suddenly both panicked and hopeful.

"Has he not told you?" Draco looked concerned.

"He is missing, do you know anything?"

"That is terrible," the young man looked sincerely chocked. "The last I saw of him he seemed to be recovering nicely."

"Tell me!" Arthur leaned forwards taking the hot teacup and putting it on the table in front of him.

"Well, I was walking down the corridor at Hogwarts, trying to find a way to get to my parents and convince them to leave with me," Draco looked sad at the memory. "As I turned a corner I caught sight of a body behind a suit of arms. Naturally I was very concerned and rushed over."

Arthur was sitting on the edge of his seat, everything else forgotten.

"I pushed away the suit of arms and examined him," Draco leaned forward too, heightening Arthur's suspense. "He was alive, but barely. I was quite badly injured myself at this time," he held up his slightly scared hands for Arthur to see. "But I did not want to leave him there. I decided immediately to carry him to the potions classroom. There I gave him a blood-potion and some other healing-potions. I would have done more, but I did not have a wand."

"I understand," whispered Arthur. "So he is alive?"

"I had to leave him there, after I was sure that he was safe and out of danger, of course. It was about when Voldemort made his deadline. But I believe he is alive, yes.

Arthur leaned back taking his tea and drinking a few gulps, not minding the lack of his usual three sugars.

"I'm sorry I could not be of more help," said Draco giving him a weak smile.

"Oh, I know more now than I did before," Arthur mind was spinning. "That is help enough, thank you."

"There is one other thing…" said Draco hesitating. "I have been thinking, I found some notes in Sev… Snape's robes."

"Yes, I have seen them. They are in code."

"I know some spells, which could help," the young man gave him a parchment with some enchantments.

"Thank you," Arthur's tilted his head. "Why are you being so nice?"

"Just trying to help," Draco held up his palms.

Arthur got to his feet and looked down at the parchment, there was something written on the backside of the paper. There were five names. He recognised them all as high ranking employees in the Ministry, one of them already suspected to be a Death Eater.

"Who are these?" he asked holding up the names.

"Oh" Draco looked surprised. "That is nothing, I was just thinking…"

"What?"

"I am trying to remember some things that I may have overheard," he smiled shyly. "I was never in any kind high rank, but I still heard things."

* * *

"Thank you Draco," said Mr. Weasley. "I have to go."

"You do not have to thank me," Draco smiled his well practiced honest smile. "Good luck with finding your son."

Mr. Weasley left, with quite a spring to his step. Draco's face fell; he massaged his cheeks, hurting from all the smiling. He lent back in the chair. He would give it a quarter of an hour before Order had been assembled. He sent away some of the elves to keep an eye on the meeting and to be lookouts.

Rising from the chair, he walked over to the west wall, counting the leafy ornaments carved into the wood wall. He pressed the seventh and eighth leaf at the same time, the hidden passageway opened just beside him. As he stepped inside, the door closed behind him and magical light flared up to show him the way. With hurried steps he made his way though the tunnel, reliving childhood memories.

He could remember as a four-year-old climbing up in his mother's bed laying his head on her arm. She had smiled, drawn him in under the covers and kissed his forehead, calling him her little Dragon, running her nails over his scalp.

As he came to the end of the walkway he listened. He could hear muffled voices on the other side. The Weasel and Granger, he stood still when he heard a door opening and a third voice speaking. Soon he could hear footsteps leaving and a door closeting. Quietly he opened the secret door and peaked out. He could see his mother's bed before him. Harry was lying imbedded in the lavished sheets.

Suddenly for the first time, Draco felt really, really bad. He had done that. Why the fuck had he done that?

He walked closer, stopping at the foot of the bed. Harry was not wearing his glasses, they were in the nightstand. Draco looked around; noticing two extra beds transfigured from his mother's French 17th century chairs. The tagalongs had made up camp. Draco slid himself up in the bed placing his head on the pillow next to Harry. He stroked a piece of the wayward hair away from the sleeping face, wishing that he could see those green eyes.

"I am sorry," he whispered. "I am sorry."


	14. Good Bye, my Love

A/N: This chapter is based upon the songs "Don't let me be misunderstood" by Yusef Islam and "White Flag" by Dido

Draco continued to stroke Harry's hair.

"I don't understand myself," he confided in the unconscious man. "I know, I am definitely not an angel, but who is?" He smirked. "Saint Potter."

Slowly he moved closer. Daringly he tuned Harry on his side so that they were facing each other. Harry's face was calm and motionless.

"Things were going a little wrong for me, back there… And I guess, what I did was… was bad."

He considered what the elves had told him about Harry's soul. This meant that, Voldemort, his master, actually had been a part of Harry. In defeating Voldemort had Harry than had become his new master? Did that make any sense? Draco tried to imagine a soul opposite of Voldemort. A soul with only good intentions. The thought made him almost sick; he hoped that Harry's soul was not like that. Every life needed a little bad intention, from time to time.

"Please don't misunderstand this…" he whispered against Harry's lips.

As he kissed the soft lips, Draco almost felt carefree, if it was not for the fact that Harry's lips did not respond to his.

"I know I was a little upset before…" Draco winced. "Ok, a lot… But…" he cleared his throat. "I never meant to take it out on you. You were, well… You were just there. I guess I did not really mean it…"

He stared in to the lifeless face, wondering if he ever would get a real chance to apologise. Draco was a little upset at Harry for sleeping, but he could forgive him, since it was Draco's own fault. Kind of… He shook his head, tying to get rid of those thoughts. But then again, thinking back… He remembered Harry with his robes off, his thumbs in his waistband. Inviting him up to a private dorm room.

"Did you come on to me?"

As if Draco did not have enough of his share of problems in life. He sighed.

"I don't know if this matters, but there is no sense in keeping it a secret. There is only you and me here, well me, that is. I don't even know if you can hear me. But, I still love you." He bit his lips together.

"I'm telling you this, because I am leaving. I do not know if you are going to wake up, I hope you are. I do not want to make your life harder, and I do not want us to be enemies again…" Draco scooted closer to reach Harry's lips.

He tied to give a slow, longing kiss good bye, but felt his urges taking over. With light kisses he followed Harry's jaw line down to the neck and shoulder, pushing back the pyjama shirt a little.

"Fuck," he whispered as he sucked the tender sweet flesh of Harry's collar bone, felling himself getting hard. "I can not do this, not again. Not…"

He stopped, looking up at Harry's face. There was no change, but… Draco pushed his knee closer to Harry's crotch, the man was hard. Draco threw himself back, as if the thing was a poisonous snake, getting up on his knees in the bed. Harry lay still, creating a tent with his covers. Draco bit his lip, reached forward and peaked down under the blanket.

He had not even got to see Harry's cock the last time. Draco had been too concentrated on his own rage and confusion to take any grater notice of shape of the body beneath him. He looked over his shoulder to the door. Was there time? He had only planned to say his good buys and leave. It was not like he was going to fuck Harry. That would leave to much mess and destruction, and he wanted to make a clean exit. He pushed away the covers from the body before him.

"I am only causing more trouble," Draco argued to himself as he unbuttoned the pyjama shirt revealing the smooth flesh. The bruises he had seen before were almost gone. The nipples were dark, and Draco now noticed some fine strands of dark hair that he had not observed last time either. Hesitantly he reached out a finger to trace a nipple; it was immediately hard to his touch. Harry's body was making decisions with out asking his brain, or for that matter, being held back by it. Draco's own erection was excruciating. Slowly he lifted and pushed down Harry's pyjama bottoms. There was no underwear.

"You will never talk to me again after this," whispered Draco leaning forward and took the red, shiny cock in his mouth.

As he began to suck, he forgot all about his plan. He forgot that is was over, he forgot that nothing of this made any kind of sense. His only thought was to get that glorious tautness deeper in his mouth. With one hand on Harry's hip and the other resolutely griped abound his own cock, he firmly began to move. How had he ever thought that he could give this man up? He licked the precome of the shaft, feeling himself very close to orgasm.

The sleeping mans breathing increased, and a moan escaped the parted lips. Semen filled Draco's mouth and he swallowed hard to get it all down, his own violent realise not taking long to follow. Exhausted Draco rested his head on Harry's inner thigh.

As he looked up, he was met by sleepy green eyes and a smile. Draco gasped and got to his hands and knees. He quickly crawled up so his face was over Harry's.

"I am sorry," he pleaded. "I am so sorry!"

Harry's eyes rolled back in their sockets, and the man lost consciousness again.

"Fuck!" swore Draco and got up on his feet next to the bed. "Fuck!" He put himself back into his pants. "Fuck!"

He did not have time to say it again, the door opened. Draco dropped to the floor, pushing himself under the bed. There were footsteps, a single man came in to the room and stopped, probably at the sight on the bed.

"What the…" it was the Weasel's voice.

Two pairs of shoes rushed over to the bed. Draco saw his one and only chance.

He grabbed the feet, pulling them to him. Weasley fell backwards; Draco scrambled up and grabbed the man's wand, putting him in a body lock and a silencing charm. Weasley was too surprised to resist. Draco got to his feet, threw a spell to close the door and towered over his prisoner.

"Weasel-bits!" he said in a mock voice. "Long time no see!"

Weasley struggled, his face almost as red as his hair. His eyes were burning with hate and confusion.


	15. What Aboout Harry?

A/N: Chapter inspired by "the Pain" by Lacuna Coil

Harry slipped away from the celebrations. He was tired, his head ached. Of course it was understandable, who would not be exhausted after demolishing one of the most powerful and evil wizards of all time? He smirked at this thought. He felt neither guilt nor virtuousness over what he had just done.

It was strange, Harry thought, he could actually feel something missing inside him, wherever the Horcrux now had been. He had his soul to himself again, something he had not had since the death of his parents. It felt really good, but still, there was a hole somewhere inside him.

What was going to happen now? He thought as he climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. He actually had a future, a grim concept for someone who had just very happily settled with the thought of dying before his eighteenth birthday. He wondered if Kreacher would bring him a sandwich. It would not kill the pain in his heart and soul, but it would maybe settle his stomach. He was surprised to see Draco Malfoy standing in front of the painting with the Fat Lady.

"Malfoy?" he asked and the man turned to him. "Are you here to kill me?"

Malfoy seemed confused over the question. Harry studied the strange appearance of the Slytherin. He was wearing the same clothes has he had been wearing the last time Harry saw him, after the fire. He found it weird that the usually impeccable man had not scurried off to his dorms to change. He could feel the presence of a wand on Malfoy. Harry so high on magic at this point he could have set fire on it with his thought.

"Can we talk?" asked Malfoy, looking just as tired as Harry felt.

Tilting his head, Harry studied Malfoy. The lean body, the smooth beautiful face. Was not this just what he needed? He took a deep breath to hide his smile.

"Fine," he said. "I thought of asking Kreacher to bring me a sandwich, but I guess that you will do."

"Are you sure?"

"I already died once today. Jingle bells!" The picture frame opened at the sound of the password. "Actually, now that I think about it, it was the highlight of the day," he added.

It had been, he thought. As he walked though the common room he felt Malfoy playing with the wand. He wondered who's wand it was, he still had Malfoys own wand tucked in his back pocket under the robes.

Kill the pain, Harry thought. He wondered if he could get Malfoy up to the tower before the killing curse would hit his back. Either way, the pain would go away.

"Do you mind if we talk in the prefect's room?" he asked. "He went to look after the first years. I'm really tired and the others are going to crash in here at any moment."

Malfoy nodded and followed him to the stairs.

Harry's mind was in turmoil. He wondered what he was supposed to do when he got Draco to the room. The thought of seducing a man, Malfoy no less, Malfoy who wanted to kill him, just minutes after terminating the Dark Lord, was so absurd. He had to hold back not to laugh. Merlin, he was so dead beat. Maybe Malfoy would settle for a snuggle. Harry knew that this was his last chance.

Last time he prepared to die, he had thought of his friends and is family. This time, with the great threat to everyone else gone; his selfish, long time denied, teenage hormones made him beg not to die a virgin.

Inside the Gryffindor house's prefects room he closed the door behind them. He had to do this fast, before the uncertainty he saw in Malfoys eyes disappeared.

"Talk, Malfoy," he sighed, taking of his dusty robe.

Standing in his sweatshirt and jeans he looked up at Malfoy. The man seemed to hesitate, biting his lip. Was he going to say something?

Harry did not move back as Malfoy took two strides forwards and pressed his lips to his own.

As Malfoy pushed his mouth open with his tongue, Harry just let himself be taken; bowing to the other mans experience. Not really caring to move neither arms nor mouth, Harry let the sucking, biting and licking overwhelm him. It felt nice to leave everything to someone else, letting go of control, giving everything. Suddenly Malfoy stepped back, looking at him. Harry swallowed; he could not hold back the urge to tease the blond.

"Is that all? I'm really tired you know…"

Harry pulled off his sweatshirt and looked down. He was quite surprised at the damage, strange; there was no bodily pain, just the one in his head. Yeah, and that one in his heart and soul, but that was a more metaphysical pain. He did not dare to look up at Malfoy, so he put on an air in carelessness. His lips still reminiscing the kiss, he bent to take of his shoes and socks. He could feel a cloud of frustrated magic surrounding Malfoy. Looking up at this, he noticed that the man had closed his eyes. Harry had not thought he looked that disgusting. Then the eyes opened and met Harry's.

"Was it anything else?" he asked pushing his thumbs down the waistline of his pants to enhance his hidden meaning. "If not, I'm off to bed."

Something very fierce and almost dangerous flew over Malfoy's face. Harry knew that the man reached for the wand in the back pocket before Malfoy even had moved.

"This. Is. Mine."

"Yeah, thanks for the lend," Harry tried to sound polite.

He was surprised when Malfoy suddenly grabbed hold of him and pushed him back on the bed. Feeling a little bewildered, he was even more surprised when Malfoy turned him over to his stomach.

"Wha…?" he felt dizzy from the sudden movement.

The next thin he knew, he was in a body binding spell. He felt Malfoys hand grabbing hold of his jeans and pulling them off his legs. Another spell and his legs were spread out and bound.

"Malf…"

"Shut the fuck up!" screamed Malfoy and cast a silencing spell.

Okay, thought Harry, this is going to hurt. He might be a virgin but he was neither inexperienced nor unknowing. So, his plan had backfired. That would not necessarily mean that he had lost, he would still not die a virgin.

He could feel the bed moving and noticed how Malfoy positioned himself between his legs.

"Stupid, bloody hero…" murmured Draco between his teeth. "Thinking he is so high and mighty…"

Harry tried to protest at this. He had never thought of himself that way, and he was tired of people thinking that he did.

"I said shut the fuck up!" Malfoy gave ho a smack on the hip.

Harry noticed a spell he recognised for lube, he closed his eyes preparing for what was about to come. He did not have to wait long. In one hard thrust Malfoy's whole length was inside him. He tried to scream had he felt himself open and tare. Another deep thrust ravaged Harry's body with pain and pleasure.

"I hate you," Malfoy cried. "Fuck, I love you."

Harry could feel tears falling down on his back. Though the dimness of pain and the strange feeling of ecstasy, he grabbed on to one word, love. He concentrated on this word, letting his strong magic play with it. He let the word sooth his inner pain as his outer pain grew. His cock was hard and rubbing to the sheets. He came with a grunt, the orgasm streaming though him.

He could feel Malfoy slumping over him. Hot breath wisped against his neck. Actually, it did not feel that bad. Tentatively he clenched his arse round the spent cock. Malfoy rose from the bed, leaving Harry sore, empty and unbelievably tired. With his last strength he looked over his shoulder and met Draco's shocked eyes. Harry shivered and closed his eyes.

"Potter?" he could hear Draco's voice far off. "H…Harry?"

The binds were released, but Harry did not care, he was falling asleep. A snore escaped him.

A light kiss brushed his mouth. Then he felt a strange taste on his tongue, the taste of something poisonous. Let the pain relief come then, he swallowed. His last sensation before everything blacked out was the feeling of a deep kiss.


	16. Dealing with the Weasel

"So, Mr. Weasley," said Draco as he levitated the ginger man to a chair. "Your presence has changed my planes somewhat."

Ronald's eyes followed him furiously, as Draco returned to the bed to dress and cover Harry up. He placed a small kiss on Harry's forehead, contemplating the new redness in the sleeping mans skin. He shifted his eyes to the bedside table, there lay Harry's glasses, and his own wand. Draco picked up the wand, feeling the familiarity.

"This would come in handy," he said turning to Ronald.

He cast a silencing and a locking spell on the door. Sitting down on the bed at Harry's feet he regarded the freckled face, thinking though how he was to use this new situation in his plans. Draco gave Ronald a pitying smile.

"I am going to be nice to you, Ronald," He shifted his seat, trying to choose his words carefully. "I could charm you to obey me, but casting an Unforgivable now would not help me later on. So I am going to try to make a deal with you."

The Weasel's eyes were still angry, but seemed interested.

"I am leaving the Manor," said Draco. "This…" he motioned to Harry "…is my fault, and I am going to fix it, I promise. I am going to look for Severus. I am going to bring him back here and help Harry."

Ronald blinked, his anger a little more relaxed.

"As soon as I leave the Manor, the wards are going to know, and there will be a total lockdown. No one will be able to get in or out, except the elves. Therefore I need a Secret Keeper. As long as you cover for me, the wards will keep open." He studied the wand he had taken from Ronald, and found the name 'Fred' engraved in its side. He smirked.

"In addition," Draco sighed. "I will give you a list of Death Eater information, which you can do as you want with. Though, I recommend that you use it to keep up appearances as if you were interrogating me and giving you a little at the time."

Draco looked up at Weasley, and saw that the man was looking worriedly at Harry.

"I have not hurt him," said Draco. "I am beyond that, now…"

Ronald narrowed his eyes and gave him a slow nod, a sign that he was listening.

"So, do you agree to my terms?"

Ronald gave another nod.

* * *

Ron stretched as the spells was taken of him. For a moment he considered jumping Malfoy beating the shit out of him, but his worry for Harry overtook him. Ignoring Malfoy for the moment, he stepped right over to Harry, examinating him. Malfoy rose from the bed, both wands in his right hand. Ron was no expert, but confirmed that Harry seemed to be all right.

"Why could you not just leave him alone?"

"I love him," was the surprising answer. "And I was angry…"

"Asshole," murmured Ron looking back down at Harry.

"We do not have much time," said Malfoy, taking away the spells on the door and stepped over to the wall, where he opened a hidden door. "After you."

Ron nodded and walked over to the hole in the wall.

"I am doing this for Harry," he said, glaring at the hated man. "And only because I know that if anyone can find Snape, it is you."

"I will keep my eye out for Fred too," Malfoy gave him an almost human smile and returned Fred's wand to him.

Staring at the wand in his hand, Ron went through an inner struggle. Finally, the reasoning voice of his girlfriend over won his lust for blood and revenge. He put the wand in his pocket.

Leading the way though the tunnel, Ron was surprised as he stepped into another bedroom. He guessed it was Malfoys own, and was surprised at how clean and impersonal it was. The big, fine carved bed was full of sleeping elves. He stared at the snoring creatures as Malfoy walked up behind him.

"Darling, are they not?" Malfoy snorted. "They will help you keep the secret."

"But they are all free?" said Ron, his anger forgotten for the moment.

"They are still loyal, if you can master to ask them nicely."

* * *

The man who thought his name was George looked over at Mr. Prince. They had been walking for almost an hour, comparing memories. They did not share any, except for the hint of interest Mr. Prince showed over the castle George had been at, but there was still recognition between the two men. George was continually fighting a disturbing and intimidating feeling he had for the man, but put it down to the stern expression on his face. Mr. Prince seemed very irritable and George wanted to keep on his good side.

He was quite aggravated himself, feeling that something more was missing, except from his memory. There was some kind of presence that was gone from his side. And strangely enough, he could feel that the missing presence was very upset over this as well. George wondered if he should talk to Mr. Prince about it. He glanced to the man who walked, face down, contemplating the stick in his hand. George bit the side of his lip and was glad he was not alone.

"Where are we, do you think?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Mr. Prince looking around. "Somewhere up north, I think."

George nodded, taking in the green hills, vast fields and the cliffs by the ever closer sea. He could see a pack of sheep a bit further off and a small cottage.

"Maybe we could ask for help over there," he pointed.

Mr. Prince did not look happy over this, but gave a short nod. George climbed over a fence so they could take a short cut over a field. Mr. Prince followed and lost his footing. Quickly George held out his hand to offer his support. As Mr. Prince grabbed it, George suddenly wished that he never would let go, and was sad when he did.


	17. Is This A Soap Opera?

The man who is Fred Weasley has lost his memory in a wand fight with a Death Eater, and now he believes that he is his twin brother, George, though he does not remember him or any other member of his vast family.

Fred, who calls himself George, has met up with the, quite handsome but intimidating, Mr. Prince who has also lost his memory in what he thinks was a vicious dog attack (but really was a vicious snake attack) in witch he also lost a lot of blood. This man is actually Severus Snape, who knows two things: his real name and that he have killed someone. He is therefore very uncomfortable when the so called George drags him over a Scottish moor towards a cottage surrounded by sheep.

* * *

Arthur Weasley has been taken in by Draco Malfoy's intriguing character and starts to see the young man in a new light when he finds out that it was actually Draco who saved his son Fred's life before his disappearance. Also have he been given some information, by Draco, concerning Death Eaters that could be valuable for the oncoming restructure of the Ministry of Magic. He is currently giving his praise to the young man at the quickly gathered meeting of the Order of the Phoenix in the Malfoy Manor's dining room. Two freed house elves, with socks for hats, are sitting on the table, playing 'patty cake' and are pretending that they are not listing to every word that is being said.

* * *

Harry Potter has defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort, that is: killed him. He has also managed kill a part of himself (that was really not him to start with, but also Voldemort, nevertheless it did feel like him) in the process. It is still to be determined if the killing of Voldemort has split Harry's own soul, nobody has seemed to ask that particular question yet…

Anyway, Harry is now in a coma induced by pure exhaustion, an unfortunate rape and a venomous potion, all but the first, given to him by an very emotionally unstable Draco Malfoy, who has yet to decide the priorities in his young life. The potion, brewed by Severus Snape, based on snake venom (the same snake that bit him and partly induced his near death and current memory loss – the other parts caused were by some amounts of fire whiskey and a foul tasting potion originally designed to sooth stomach cramps)

* * *

Ronald Weasley have, hopefully unknown to him, been spared the sight of Draco Malfoy giving the unconscious Harry Potter a blow job in Narcissa Malfoy's bed chamber. Ron have there after been assigned, not by his own will, to be Draco's secret keeper to keep the wards of Malfoy Manor open for non-family members while Draco is gone to look for Severus Snape. If anyone finds out that Draco is gone from the Manor no one will be able to get in or out of the house, a bad thing since the Manor now is the hub for the majority people trying to restore the wizarding world, there among the head Auror Shacklebolt, who is probably going to be the next Minister of Magic. Ron has also been trusted with the care of seventeen freed house elves who really likes to spy for Draco and sleep on his bed at any given time.

* * *

Mrs Molly Weasley, tired of doing nothing but wait, worry and weep, takes total control over the Malfoy household, replacing the seventeen freed house elves. She employs her own daughter Ginny, and any other unfortunate underage Hogwarts student she can find, to help her with this task. The Malfoy kitchens are now filled with smells and pastries that are so different and overwhelming, that the ghost of archduke Uriel Malfoy, medieval war hero and vampire friend, moved all the down from the south tower, where he spent the last three hundred years, just to complain.

* * *

Rebus Lupin is still a werewolf and is currently mourning his wife Nymphodora who has died in the war. He is being comforted by his mother-in-law Andromeda and his young baby boy Teddy, who – if the Malfoy clan gets life in Azkaban, or is cut off from all their funds by the court – will be very rich indeed. Remus is not very happy over this outcome and is currently brewing on a plan to get his son out of the vast inheritance. The heavy responsibility of heading the Malfoy Empire and its very dark heritage is not something Remus would wish on his worst enemy (who happens to be namely Lucius Malfoy and there by creating a bit of a odd paradox).

* * *

Hermione Granger sitting by Harry's side on the bed, researching books from the vast the Malfoy library about venoms and sleeping draughts is very concerned about her boyfriend's health. That Ron quite voluntarily asked permission to be Draco Malfoys guard and interrogator had shocked not only her, but the entire Order. She was thinking along the lines that Malfoy had cast some kind of a spell on Ron, but then, why would Malfoy choose Ron of all people to share his days with? She cast a glance to Harry, was he smiling?

* * *

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy are at this time performing the death defying stunt of trying to get pregnant. The sex itself not that dangerous (they do not have any of their usual toys in the small Ministry holding cell), but the pregnancy and birth will be quite life threatening for Narcissa. She is risking blood poisoning, blood loss, severe pre-natal depression, miscarriage and even her life; it was a wonder that she even survived the birth of Draco, after already three earlier close calls. Neither husband nor wife was sure if they did this to get a more benevolent sentence for Narcissa or if they just wanted to say good bye to each other.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was slipping though the wards, whispering the enchantment so that it would keep open as long as Ronald Weasley kept quiet.

"'Save yourself and nothing else. Hold your tongue, your silence is gold. Hide a broken heart under pain.'"

The chant had been with him since as far back as he could remember. It was the first thing his father ever thought him. Every day he seemed to find a new meaning in the ancient words. Today they affected him more than ever before and he felt tears rolling down his face as he left the final residues of home behind.


	18. Night

Draco wondered if he had become mad for real this time. It has been coming for a long while now, he knew that. He remember sitting in the Room of Requirement, long time ago, staring on that damn cupboard, thinking the same thing. And now he was running away, again. How come his only answer to a difficult question was to just get as far away from it as possible? But this time, he corrected himself, he was being pulled away. Pulled away to find a cure for the man he loved.

It was almost night, and he could easily sneak away to the hidden apparition point a bit further down the walkway. He tugged the strap of the small backpack tighter to him. With a falling step he spun himself away the Shrieking Shack, the source of his misery.

The house was full of shadows, both visible and metaphorical. Draco had spent his time at Hogwarts being terrified even to go near the house. Especially since that day some invisible force had grabbed hold his legs and tried to drag him to the damn dwelling. He shivered at the traumatizing memory.

But now, there was a new memory. The bloodstain on the floor was still there, a little darker, and no body. It was like Severus had been devoured into nothingness. Draco felt a little betrayed, he was just come to terms with the beloved man's death and then he was not dead at all. He would have stood there for quite a long time if not the memory of the sleeping Harry had been calling him away.

He looked around. Were would Severus have gone from here, had he even been able to walk? The dust was now so disturbed that nothing could be derived from it. He sighed, maybe instead of asking where, he should be asking why?

Feeling the need to gather his thoughts he sat down on the floor by the blood stain. First of all there were his parents. It had been long hours since he last saw them and he was really worried. Then there was all that had been taken from him, his homes, his safety, his future. He had let his ice cold armour fall, back there with Harry. How could it be that an unconscious man could pull so much strength out of him? It was if he had been taken over by erratic thoughts and they were having fistfights in is brain.

He must stop to try to control the world, he thought. Things were happening without his control anyway. He had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, yes, but he had not been responsible for what had happened next. Greyback's assault on Bill Weasley, the death of Dumbledore. Draco winced; he could be accused as an aid to both events. And even if he had not been the one to cast the killing curse, he would still be blamed for disarming Dumbledore, leaving the old man defenceless… Dumbledore had been a powerful wizard, maybe even more powerful than the Dark Lord (he was not really ready to accept that thought yet). But the thought of Dumbledore being powerless without his wand facing a seventeen-year-old, was that even possible?

Draco got a sinking feeling that he had been played. The thought had touched his mind several times under the summer he was on the run with Severus, but it had never really manifested itself. Back at Hogwarts again he had had his own problems with the sadistic Carrows.

Draco sighed again, he had noticed Harry doing wand less magic a couple of times. And if Harry could do it, why could not Dumbledore, at least seven decades his senior? Draco's so called brief victory had been an act.

Harry, he thought. Again his mind was drawn back to the image of the saviour, bare breasted with the thumbs stuffed down the waist of his pants. 'I'm going to bed', Harry had said. How was Draco to deny that? He had not; he had taken it, forcefully… But again his mind wondered back, what about Harry's strong magic? Would that not be on its peak after the… thing Harry just had done? Draco stared out thought the dirty window to the night outside. He had been used… When had he not been used? His father had used him as an image of himself ever since he was born, being put on display. He was even used as an excuse for his mother's bodily weakness. Again, he thought, Harry was in a coma and the man was still using him.

He had been more or less a slave for the whole of his life. Sitting in the darkness he continued on this road of self discovery. Why did he have to find Severus anyway? Harry was quite well off where he was. The man did not have to worry about life of death. Draco would also like to be unconscious, but he was not, just because Sevrus had been poisoning him slowly. Should he be happy that Severus had cared for his life or should he be disappointed that he was still alive with his brooding thoughts, regret and ever growing guilt?

And here he was now, seeking some kind of redemption. Feeling safe enough so rest, he placed some wards around himself and settled with the backpack as a pillow under his head. It was highly unlikely that any one would come back here now. Of course, if Ronald blabbered, this would be than first place they'd look. But than again, they had to get out of the house first.

As he felt sleep rush down on him, he dreamed of a tall dark figure holding out his hand towards him and leading him away to the night.

* * *

In his assigned bed in the Malfoy Manor Harry stirred slightly in his sleep, giving a bit of hope to Poppy Pomfrey and Hermione Grander who was tending to his feeding.

"He does not seem to be in coma anymore," mused Pomfrey. "Just in a Unwakeable sleep."

"Is that better?" asked Hermione as she let a spoonful of purple nutrition potion slide down Harry's throat.

"A little," the medi-witch sighed and tensed. "Where is his wand? I put it on the nightstand."

"I have it," said Ron gloomily, lying on his transfigured bed, starring up on the moving ceiling decorations.


	19. Time Passing

"I have not seen young mister Malfoy for over two weeks," said The Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt to the new Head Auror as the newly appointed Ministry department heads sat down around the big dinner table in the dining hall.

"Still I would like to talk to him," said Zachariah Smith, youngest head Auror ever, with an uncomfortable face. "His father's trial is tomorrow, and his own will not be far off either. We will take up his case after his fathers."

"Finally got our heads around the courts then?" asked the Minister with a satisfied smile. "Is Lucius first out?"

"Yes, Minister," said the witch that was Head of the Wizarding Law department. "His is the case is very high profile, it will be good publicity and show that we are ready to make justice."

"What about his wife, Narcissa?" asked Remus Lupin, Head of Department for the Care, Preservation and Protection of magical creatures. "Does she also have a court date?"

"Why do you ask?"

"She is my mother-in-law's younger sister," Remus pulled a face. "Andromeda has been quite worried."

"What about?" asked Shacklebolt. "I did not think there was any love lost between them. I heard that Andromeda was called a blood-traitor."

"Yes," Remus shifted in his seat. "But they are still sisters and the current situation…"

"What situation?" asked Arthur Weasley, Head of Muggle Affairs.

"It has confirmed that Narcissa Malfoy is indeed pregnant," explained Smith. "She can not then, by wizarding law, not be sentenced to anything that can hurt the child."

"If her previous medical history is anything to go after…" said Poppy Pomfrey, Head of the Department for Wizarding Health and Welfare "…the strongest sentence she can receive on those grounds, are at least nine months confined to her bed. If she even survives that long."

"We should talk to Draco about this," said Remus. "I will ask Ron, he is the only one Draco talks to."

"Why?" Smith asked interested.

"I don't really know…" Remus looked thoughtful. "It has been so for the last two weeks, I think Draco is quite depressed."

"I mean, why Ron? They have never seen eye to eye."

"Ron said that he really gotten to like Draco," said Arthur with a smile. "Draco has given him a vast collection of Quiddich magazines several decades old. He is always showing me articles and pictures."

"And Draco has given him much valuable information," Remus pointed out. "We would never have found that secret laboratory without Draco's help."

"How can he have so much information?" continued Smith. "He was never high rank, nothing like his father."

"I believe his is in contact with his father," said the Minister. "The house elves are still loyal to the family even if they have all been freed. Ron has been telling me that they all live in Draco's private quarters."

"So you are telling me that Draco Malfoy, the Draco Malfoy, has spent over two weeks hidden in his room with Ron Weasley and a bunch of free house elves reading old Quiddich magazines?" Zachariah Smith looked reproachful.

The room was quite silent as this statement began to sink in. The people responsible began to shift slightly.

* * *

The magazines were the best find Ron had made in Malfoy's room. After the Slytherin had left, Ron had immediately begun to search the room, under the disapproving eyes of the elves. He was delighted when he found the magazines, but not as delighted when he found a big box of half working badges that spelled out things like 'Potter is pink', 'Pot and sinks" and 'Pofer blinks'. He had also found Malfoy's secret candy hiding place (bottom drawer in the closet), three old stuffed toys (a dragon, a cat and a hippogriff) and some quite graphical pornography (this was promptly hidden again and Ron was seriously considering oblivitating himself).

He settled down for another afternoon with Malfoy's candy and magazines. The elves had grown quite fond of him, and were even refilling the candy drawer. For the moment there where nine elves on the bed, two of them were excitingly looking though a big colourful picture book for children. Hermione had complained that he was spending too much time in here, but at least he did not get pulled in by his mother's frantic cleaning of the enormous house.

He had just begun to read an interesting article on the 1967 Quiddich World Cup when the doors to bedroom were opened. His own wards were no match for several adult wizards. Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt took one look about the room and settled on Ron, who had a half of a chocolate frog melting in his hand.

"He is not here, is he?"

"Oh shit," said Ron, feeling the wards fall down all over the Manor and locking everybody in and out.

* * *

Draco could feel a far off shutter in his back and knew what had happened. He was impressed with the Weasel for managing to hold up the wards for so long. He sighed as he sipped his foul Muggle drink and jealously regarded the couple on the other side of the pub.

Fred and Severus were sitting, quite casually by a window table. Both were wearing rough farm hand muggle clothes and seemed content with life. They were whispering, laughing. Draco had known Severus his whole life and never seen so many smiles come from the man has he had during the last ten minutes. What really made him jealous was that they were holding hands under the table.

He had come upon them three days earlier. Neither of them seemed to recognize him. Draco had put a simple brown glamour on his hair, but his face was the same. He had stood, quite puzzled, for over an hour observing how the two missing wizards were cutting the fleece of sheep, the Muggle way. Draco had even exchanged a couple of polite phrases with Fred, who had introduced himself as George.

Currently he was pondering, why he did not just go up to them and tell them the truth. It was not only because they both thought they were Muggle and Draco was no healer. Strangely enough, he did not want to disturb the obvious loving harmony between the men. He swore to himself, he was missing Harry.


	20. We Got to Get Out of This Place

"What was that?" asked Arthur looking around.

"The wards," grunted Ron. "They are locked. Nobody gets in or out."

"Ridiculous," snorted Smith. "Did Draco tell you that?"

"He did," Ron rose and gave Smith a narrow look. "We are trapped here, until he gets back."

"Until he…?" Shacklebolt was suddenly paler.

"You let Death Eater escape?!" bellowed Smith.

"He did not escape!" retorted Ron sourly. "He is looking for Snape!"

There was over two hours of increasingly more panicking people running around in the great house. Spells were cast and diagnostics made. The few who actually dared to magically take on the wards themselves were soon all lying in the impromptu hospital room with burns, scabs or a mouth full of feathers after being attacked by a hoard of magical peacocks.

Someone ran into Harry's room and tried to shake some life in to him. That only resulted in making Harry's hair even more ruffled and Madame Pomfrey quite upset.

When it was finally confirmed that there was indeed no way out, they returned to the dining room, to work out a strategy. The first thing they did was to come down on Ron. He was interrogated several times over, repeating every word at least trice. Having the whole wizarding cabinet shouting at you at the same time was quite an experience.

"I was his secret keeper," said Ron angrily. "As long as only I knew, the wards would be open."

"Not that you are that good at keeping secrets," noted Charlie, who was holding on to George, who, in his turn, seemed to care less about anything.

"Excuse me," Ron growled. "I covered him for two weeks! I had to spend hours every day in that room, keeping everybody out, saying that only I could talk to him. Hermione even thought I was having an affair with him! I can keep a secret."

"I did not really think that," Hermione blushed.

"This still not makes up for you letting a prisoner go free," Shacklebolt looked very pissed off. "What makes you think he will even return?"

"He promised," murmured Ron.

"He promised?"

"He would never miss his father's day in court," Hermione piped up. "He was researching really hard to help him, even asked me for help, once."

And we have Harry, thought Ron to himself looking at his feet. Draco is coming back for Harry. He did in no way approve what he had seen that day when he came in to the room, but he knew that how ever twisted Draco was, he cared for Harry. Not that this would stop Ron from giving Malfoy a bloody nose and personally throw him in to Azkaban if he ever touched Harry in that way again.

"First things first," Arthur cleared his throat. "How do we get out of here?"

"We can send a message with one of the house elves," said Lupin. "They are not affected by the wards."

"They are not listening to us."

"They will if you ask them nicely," said Ron.

"What will we say?"

"We have to get Lucius Malfoy over here," Lupin bit his lips together.

* * *

Draco rose from his seat. Biting his lips together, he walked over to the two men. They looked up at him with curios eyes. Fred smiled at him, recognizing him from their earlier conversation.

"May I sit down?" asked Draco with a smile to the redhead.

"Sure," Fred moved over a little.

Snape's eyes narrowed, looking him over like he was going to steal Fred away from him. Draco felt a little tufted at this since it was not long ago he had wished Severus to give that look for Draco's sake.

"I have seen you around the last few days," said Fred. "Are you sightseeing?"

"Not really," Draco winced, wondering how he was supposed to do this.

"We came here just a few weeks ago ourselves," continued the redhead with a smile.

"And now you shed sheep?"

"It is not only the shedding," said Fred unaware the sudden intense eye contact Draco suddenly had with Severus. "There is feeding, calving, bailing…"

"I am not in to gingersnaps," Draco kept his voice low, trying not to show the hurt feelings.

"Good," Sevrus narrowed his eyes. "Because I am not sharing."

"Duly noted."

Fred was looking bewildered between the two men.

"I know where I can get a very similar one anyway; I could even say I have an identical in my home right now."

This statement got only confused looks from the other men. Draco sighed; this was not going to be easy.

Sure he could just cast an Imperio and Apparate them to the Manor, he was very good at that spell. But then again, Unforgivables was something he must wean himself out of. He could stun them and drag them away, but not in the middle of a muggle community. Several other suggestions were also lost to this fact. The first thing is to gain their trust, lead them to a shielded of place and… and then what? This plan also had flaws, thought Draco.

Maybe he should try the direct approach.

"I am talking about your brother," said Draco pinning the redhead with a stare. "Your brother George."

"But I am George," protested Fred.

"You are Fred, George is your twin brother."

"Who are you?" Severus dark eyes shook Draco to the core.

"A friend," Draco shuddered.

"You have been here for three days, I have seen you. What kind of friend are you?"

"I just wanted to make sure…"

Draco did not want to say that he just wanted see the two be happy just a little bit more before he brought down the horrible truth on them. As soon as the unlikely pair regained their sense of selves they would not touch each other with a ten foot pole. Much like Harry would not ever touch Draco again when he found out that he had not only been raped once, but twice.

"You said that you know his identical twin, and you wanted to be sure… that you what? Recognized him?" Severus had not lost his sharp mind with his memory.

Draco sighed, but continued to concentrate on Fred.

"I know your parents, Arthur and… and… Molly! You have five brothers and one sister."

"What are their names?" Fred looked very puzzled, like he had some tiny recollection of the words that came out of Draco's mouth.

"Err…" Draco thought, he had not expected on some stupid Weasley quiz, like he ever cared to remember the ginger clan. "Ronald, I mean Ron. Then there is Bill…" He winced at the memory of Grayback's victim. "George, your twin, of course… And the Weaslette… uh, Ginny." How many was that? Six? One was missing, that snotty prefect. "What is his name… something with P…"

"Percy," whispered Fred gripping Sevrus hand very hard.


	21. Make up Your Mind!

"And then the dragon keeper…" murmured Draco, really trying to remember names here. "Uh, big, tall guy… Red hair…"

"You do not seem too familiar with his family," said Severus suspiciously.

"I recognize the names, though," Fred sounded excided, looking at Draco in a new light. "He does know something!"

"I have never heard these names…" muttered Severus.

"You last name is Weasley," said Draco, giving up on the oldest offspring's name.

"I know that name…" Fred glanced at Severus. "What about Prince's family?"

Draco hesitated; he looked at the older man, who had a little spark of interest in his dark eyes. Then he took a deep breath.

"His name is Snape, Severus Snape," Draco shifted his seat. "And… and I guess… that I am his family."

"You are his son?" asked Fred, a little too excited.

"No, no!" Draco lifted his hands, clearing away the slightly horrified expression in Severus disapproving eyes. "He is… was… is a very good friend of my father. I am… his godson."

"Oh!" Fred nodded, looking more confused by the second. "Why has no one looked for us? We have checked the paper every day."

"It would not be in a Muggle paper."

"What is a Muggle?" asked Severus.

Draco kneaded the bridge of his nose, really wishing he was dead, or at least sleeping, with Harry. He knew he should have drunken all the venom before, that way none of this would have happened.

"I have to take you back," said Draco. "Aurors are looking for you, they have just not realized that you were in a Mugg.. in a place like this."

"Aurors?" asked Fred. "Who is he?"

"They" corrected Draco trying to find the right word to explain. "Law enforcement."

Severus paled several nuances and tightened his grip on Fred's hand.

"We have considered going to the police," said Fred with a worried to the older man. "But…"

Draco noticed the minuscule shaking of Severus head.

Suddenly he realized that the two men's memory losses were not caused by the same injury. And on top of that, the great differences in the two men's underling personality. He might be able to gain Fred's trust with vaguely familiar names and kindness, Severus would not be so easily convinced.

"You have not told us your name," said Severus, his posture very rigid.

"It is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"What kind of name is that?" snorted the dark man. "It sounds made up."

"Well, I do not know, Severus Snape," Draco sneered.

"I need to go to the bathroom," exclaimed Severus and rose.

He hesitated, bent down to Fred and placed a gentile kiss on the man's lips.

Draco wanted to follow him, but Fred had grabbed hold of his arm.

"Tell me more!" Fred was furiously pulling his arm, spitting out questions. "Where do I live? Where are my parents? What happened to me? Why did you not tell me sooner? What is a dragon keeper?"

Distracted by the onslaught of inquiries Draco lost sight of Severus. Wrecking his mind after the glimpses of Weasley information hidden there, he hid not notice Severus slipping out of the pub.

Fred tried not to look as the older man gave him a last glance.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy laughed. He had not had so much fun since he could not remember when (it was well before the Dark Lord's return, he could say that much; he had never appreciated being sent out to fight children). He eyed the Auror standing before him, red faced, in the cell.

"Did you hear, dear?" Lucuis looked down at his wife lying on the narrow bed.

"Yes, my love," Narcissa also had an amused smile on her beautiful lips.

She was nowhere near any danger yet, but still took it very easy, not to risk the possibility of miscarriage before any of the greater court dates.

"The entire top cabinet of the Ministry of Magic trapped inside my house," Lucius chuckled, a strange sound even foreign to his wife. "And now they are asking for my help."

"We are not really asking, Mr Malfoy," scowled the middle aged Auror and adjusted his glasses.

"What will be in it for me?" Lucius face turned serious so suddenly that the Auror took a step back. "What will I get if I help you?"

"You… you are not in a position to make demands."

"But I think I am," Lucius aristocratic presence was intimidating. "From what I hear from my little friend here…" he patted the house elf sitting by Narcissa's feet on the head, giving it an almost orgasmic look on its face, "…you don't have much choice."

"The wards are over five hundred years old," continued Lucius. "And every generation renews them, with Dark Magic I might add. I have myself given the wards extra attention during the war, and I know for a fact that the Dark Lord enforced them as well when he took residence in my home."

"I… We…" the Auror paled.

"I guess you could get people out one at a time, say about every…" he looked down at his wife and shrugged, "…fifth, seventh hour?"

"Something like that," Narcissa nodded.

"Of course," pondered Lucius. "With a powerful wizard as Harry Potter on your side you might be able to hold up the wards a couple of minutes…" he smiled. "But as I hear, the young man seems to be indisposed. And the fact that every other powerful wizard that might could help is trapped…"

"What do you want?" spat the Auror.

"I know quite well that I never will go free, what ever I do to help," Lucius eyes were calm and accepting at this. "But I will not go back to Azkaban."

"It is not in my authority to…"

"Well get some one that has!"

The Auror flinched at the sudden outcry.

"I… I…"

"Well?" Lucius crossed his arms.

"House arrest?" peeped the Auror.

"What?"

"You can get house arrest for life in stead of life in Azkaban," the Auror seemed a bit more confident. "Your wife's… situation could… help."

"In the Manor?"

"Yes."

"Is that a magically binding promise by the court?"

* * *

Zachariah Smith sat with his face in his hands swearing loud curses at the floor. Lupin did not know if he should laugh or cry. The Malfoy couple was permanently locked to the Manor but still under the treat of loosing their funds. That would basically mean if Teddy was to inherit, he would also be responsible for the Malfoys welfare and upkeep for as long as they both should live. And if Narcissa's child survived, it could even mean that he would be responsible for its upbringing as well. He snorted as Kingsley Shacklebolt signed the magically binding contract.

The parchment folded up on itself, spun around and vanished. The decision was now official and magically permanent.

"Go get him," sighed Shacklebolt.

"Hello!" said Draco Malfoy walking in to the dining room with a wide eyed Fred Weasley in tow. "Have I missed anything?"

Smith looked like he was going to cry.


	22. Returning

"Fred!" cried Arthur Weasley storming though the dining room gasping the obviously startled young man in his arms.

"Father," whispered Draco under his breath.

At this word Fred came undone and fell teary eyed in Arthur's embrace. Two other Weasley brothers, that Draco did not bother to identify, came rushing in to join the squeezing. The rest of the room looked quite shocked. Draco felt really pleased that his entrance had made such a stir.

"How is Harry?" Draco managed to say before he was wrestled to the floor and sized by at least four, very heavy, Aurors.

* * *

Severus Snape, thought, the former Mr. Prince, what kind of name is that really? He was walking away from the village, leaving safety and the man he loved behind. Yes, he did love George (or was his name really Fred?). He had even told him about the murder. They had tried to find something in papers at the small village library. There had been nothing that could be linked to this area. It had even been impossible to find either the great castle, or the village he had seen, on any map or description. The librarian had just shaken her head; the biggest house around here was the McFinney's place, a small 19th century manor house, it was nothing like a castle.

Snape had been happy when they met the farmer at the pub. The man had taken pity on them, or rather Geor… Fred, since Snape could never look pitiful (he had practised in front of the mirror to no avail). When they were offered some season work with the sheep, for food and board, they had taken the opportunity. Sheep was strangely enough, Snape thought, not dangerous at all. Fred had made the farmer laugh when he asked if they only came in white and grey.

"What had you expected? Pink with rainbows?"

Snape and Geor… Fred had just exchanged looks, how was they supposed to know? Actually, Snape would not be surprised if he indeed saw a pink sheep with rainbows; it seemed a common type thing enough.

They had not told the farmer about the memory loss, not really sure why, but both had a feeling not to trust sensitive information with people who was not 'like them'. Neither of the two men had a clue what they where 'like', but had yet agreed that they were both the same. This might have sounded a bit elitist, but Snape had seen nothing wrong in thinking himself above the kind farmer.

The farmer had let them stay in a small guest room in the back of his stables, where they had to share a bed. He had deeply apologized over this, but neither of the men had protested, just glad that they hade place to spend the night. The smell of horses and sheep had disturbed Snape's sleep, but not as much as the warm body lying so close to him in the bed. It was if it had been ages since he had felt anything like that. Why could he just not remember? The bite wounds on his neck where also healing surprisingly fast.

The second night, after a long day learning how to use shears and the correct way to hold on to a sheep, had been the same, except for being more sore. Sheep, Snape had learned were strong and they did have teeth and sharp hooves.

Fred seemed to have the time of his life, giving all the sheep names and different personality traits. Even Snape felt a strange desire to smile when Fred named a fat, bucktoothed yew Dolores.

As Snape had woken up on the second morning he found himself staring in to two wonderfully blue eyes. Fred had smiled at him and then he was lost, pulling the beautiful young man to him in a soft kiss.

They did not have time for further exploration that morning since there were chores to be done. But the looks, the stolen touches and the closeness in their work teased them to breaking point by lunch time. Falling in to a big pile of hay they began tearing at each other's clothes and locked mouths.

Snape smiled at the memory of Fred's smooth skin, his own terribly scared, burned and tender. He remembered the gentle fingertips tracing the scars and the soft mouth than kissing them. He remembered combing his fingers though thick red hairs, making the younger man squirm against his touch.

The wonderful eagerness he had felt pressing to those lips, those hands and those thrusting hips. Snape grunted, trying to keep himself from getting hard at the mere thought. This was nor time nor place of thinking about sexual encounters, how ever good they might have been. And they had been good, he mused. They had been good, over and over again.

Then came the Pretty boy, obviously flirting with George, leaning over the fence like that. Snape had felt a sudden panic in comparing himself to the boy. Twenty years his junior, skin like porcelain, dainty hands, clearly a blond under the brown coloured hair. His first impression of the boy was pure fear; he was 'like them'.

Then the boy had hung around. It was like he was following them. George had not noticed anything wrong, telling Snape not to be so paranoid.

"Paranoia saved the cat," said Snape glaring over to the other side of the pub at the Pretty boy. A mere child, he snorted, taking his lover's hand in his.

"Possessive much?" grinned the redhead.

"I protect what is mine," growled Snape. "He is up to something."

"Do you think he knows…?" George sneaked a worried peak over to the boy. "Do you think he is after you, for the…"

"He is a child," snorted Snape. "What can he know?"

"He is coming over…"

* * *

Lucius stretched out on his own bed. He felt like sleeping for a week. Narcissa was already sleeping beside him, her bedroom occupied. Not that they had ever minded sleeping in the same bed, not at all. But Lucius had never liked having all the 'female stuff' that Narcissa used in his room. And anyway, separate bedrooms helped when he came home late from business trips, the rare occasions when they argued or when they just needed time apart. They had long since agreed that seeing to much of each other could put as much strain on a marriage as being to long apart. The bedrooms worked out fine. Even better when Draco was younger, the boy was keener to seek comfort from nightmares if Narcissa was alone. Not that he never really minded the child in his bed; he was just not that kind of a father.

He wondered where the boy was now; Cissa had asked but had gotten no answer. He knew that something had happened in regards to his sentence. The Aurors seemed to be very upset, even if they where tight-lipped. Not that Lucius was worried; he had trusted and raised the boy to make his own decisions for some time now. Apart from many people's beliefs of him, Lucius had never used threats to bend Draco's will after his own.


	23. Harry's Dream

Harry had had enough. This must be like the tenth time he had come back to the same spot. Again and again he would come back to the Great Hall at Hogwarts, how many times he tried to leave. And there were always the same people there. Sirius, Dumbledore, Voldemort, Snape, his parents, Cedric, Pettigrew, Fred… They were surrounding him, closing in on him.

"I told you before!" shouted Harry. "It is not me! It was never me! I am not listening to any of you anymore!"

Again he ran from the room, though the endless corridors, up the stairs, across the Quiddich pitch, over the roof on his broom and returning again to the Great Hall.

"What do you want from me?!" he cried as Voldemort gaped and released a bunch of black snitches from his lipless mouth. "I can not catch them all!"

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" exclaimed Snape, turning in to a Basilisk.

"That is not fair!" Harry looked down at his hands, they were beginning to crumble. "I am broken! I can not breathe!"

He was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down to a pile of green light. Avada Kadavra, thought Harry, taking in the light. He held up his crumbling hand over the pit, letting the crumbles fall down like sugar.

"Do you not understand, my boy?" shouted Dumbledore in the wind from the other side of the crevice. "It is perfectly clear!"

"Why can you not just disappear"! screamed Harry holding his non-existent hand to his head. "Nothing makes any sense, any more!"

"Will you not fight me boy?" drawled Voldemort's voice.

Harry turned around, wand drawn. But there was no wand, no hand, nor arm. He tilted his head. His arm hung from the elbow as a boneless flab of skin.

"Why will this not go away?" Harry was annoyed now. "Like I have time to go to the infirmary now, I have not caught the snitch yet… Always the same thing…"

He passed the Great Hall once again; his mother gave him a little wave, he waved back with the broken arm. As he continued towards the doors he could feel Padfoot following him tight on his heals. He entered the infirmary, it was very bright. The sun was up and he could see blue sky over the pitch out side the window.

"What seems to be the trouble, Mr. Potter?" Draco was washing his hands in something that looked like the Goblet of Fire.

"I am broken," said Harry holding up his broken wand, a tall feather protruded from one of the halves.

"We have a room for just such calamities!" exclaimed Draco pointing to a four poster bed in a dark corner.

"Be careful," said Harry "So you don't fall over the edge."

"Oh this?" Draco looked down the bottomless pit. "Not to worry Mr. Potter, we will have this filled in a minute. Now if you just lie down here."

"Why?" Harry sat on the side of the bed.

His wrists suddenly tied to the posts, Draco began to crawl up his legs. Please, thought Harry, not again, let him live this time. Let him live…

Like the Great Hall, the images came back again, and again. Harry looked up at Draco leaning over him, as the white shirt was sliced and blood began to pour down the pale chest. Dracos face was suddenly worried, biting his lip. Harry rushed forwards trying to stop he blood with his hands.

"No, no, I am sorry. I did not mean it!"

"Seems like you are not the only one breaking," said Snape beside him.

"What can I do?" cried Harry trying to cup the flowing blood in his hands. "Nothing ever works in this damned place!"

He tried to scoop up the blood on the floor, but he did not know were to put it. Down the pit, he thought, yes. He began to push the blood on the white floor over the edge.

"Mr. Potter," said Draco. "We should really look at that brake."

"Not now, Malfoy!" Harry was angry; he did not seem to have any hands to push the blood with. "I am trying to save your life here."

"I do not need you to fight my battles, Potter!"

"Shut up when I am talking to you!" screamed Harry on his feet like he flew there.

"Stupid, bloody hero…" murmured Draco between his teeth. "Thinking he is so high and mighty…"

"Shut up, shut up!"

He was met with Malfoy's lips on his, pressing hard inside. His body responding, wanting, needing, he fell backwards over the edge with Draco armed heavenly wrapped around him.

* * *

"Can we not just turn him on his side or something," whined Ron. "Please."

"It is a very good sign," said Hermione looking up from a diagnostics book. "He seems to have stopped having nightmares."

"Let us turn him to his side before I get nightmares," Ron grabbed Harry's arm so he would turn.

"Oh, Ron, do not be so squeamish," Hermione blushed very hard but helped him promptly. "It is good that he does not have those bad dreams. He has been screaming for almost two weeks now."

"You do not have to remind me," grumped Ron. "I have been here."

"Mostly you were hiding in Draco's bedroom."

"Well, at least I was hiding for a good cause."

"Yes and see where that has taken us!" muttered Hermione. "The wards are…"

"Open…?" Ron felt the tingle of Magic.

"They must have brought Mr. Malfoy in," said Hermione. "It is a travesty of justice."

"What does that mean, really?"

Before Hermione could make a comment the door was pushed open and Ginny rushed in.

"Ron… Fred… back…" she panted.

"What are you saying?"

"Fred is back! He is here!" She inhaled. "Draco just showed up with him."

"Oh my goodness!" exclaimed Hermione.

The three of them ran out of the room, leaving Harry alone with his wet dream. He would probably be thankful if he had known.


	24. Coming Home

Draco could not believe this, the indignity of it all. Sure, he had been in the Manor's dungeons many times before. He had played there as a child, and he had snuck down by a couple of times in the summer, checking up on Luna Lovegood and Mr. Olivander, making sure that neither of them died. But this time he was trapped here himself. The Aurors had been really pissed of, for some reason, but he guessed that was expected. He had been hauled off, not even getting a chance to explain or ask anything.

He smirked, Fred had been distracting him with questions he did not have half the answers for, and the redhead had done this for over twenty minutes before Draco noticed that Snape would not come back. Draco had scalded him then, but Fred was not yet convinced that it was safe for Severus to return. Against his will, Draco agreed. He had to come back for Severus later, even if it tarred him apart aside. It did not matter if they could get the man's memory back or not. Severus was still a Death Eater, he was a traitor to the light, and he had killed Dumbledore.

It could have been me. Draco thought glumly. If I had had the guts, if I had been strong.

In the end, what had he done? He had failed. He had disappointed Severus, his father and himself. And now he had lost Severus. If the Aurors had listened to him, he would have had explained to them that… Oh, what was the use? He did not really care anymore. Draco leaned back to the stone wall, starring in to the distance, to the other stone wall. He was quite upset that his nice trousers were going to be dirty and get wrinkles. With another sigh, he thought of Harry, he would not give up. But Draco was not Harry and Draco had given up lots of times, well maybe not lots… Okay, Draco had never given up before, he had just changed direction. In what direction was he going change now?

He realized, after a while, that even if he was to change his direction, his goal would be the same; he was going to make Harry his own.

* * *

Fred was just learning to breathe again after his mother's assault on his ribs, when he was knocked to the floor by a thinner, but otherwise identical, copy of himself. His memory had been coming back in small spurts, but he was still extremely confused. He was lying on his back on the expensive floor with his own mirror image hugging the rest of life out of him, was very surreal.

"Gerroff" he squeaked.

"I knew you were alive," his energized brother held him tight. "I knew it, knew it, knew it!"

"Not for not much longer…" gasped Fred.

"Oh, sorry, brother dear" the twin let go.

Fred looked at the smiling face before him. He laughed.

"So you are George, it all makes more sense now."

His parents exchanged worried looks.

"Mom?" George looked between his newly regained twin brother and his parents. "Is he alright?" He turned to Fred. "Are you alright?"

"As far as I can remember," blushed Fred, he missed Prince.

"Let me see…" his mother held up her wand and did a move, the tip of the wood glowed.

"Whoa, Mom," exclaimed Fred. "That was cool. Not as cool as Draco when he took me here, but still cool."

"What did Draco do?" asked his father, tilting his head.

"He held my hand like so," he grabbed Georges lower arm. "Then we where here, outside the house. It was wicked."

"Mom?" George looked like he was going to cry. "What is wrong with him?" He turned back to Fred. "What is wrong with you?"

"I miss Prince…" sighed Fred.

* * *

Another vile tasting liquid was poured down Fred's throat. The roof of his mouth was sticky and sour. He tried hard not to throw up.

"One more, dear," the Medi-witch held up a bottle and a spoon.

"No," he protested.

"Come on, bro," urged George. "You can do it! Piece of cake!"

"It is not a piece of cake! It is a mixture of fennel and toadstool!"

"He remembers!" Ginny cheered, clapping her hands. "Give him more!"

Fred grunted and let himself be fed with even more horrible potion. Feeling his memory coming back, he was a little disappointed and very saddened by the images of Snape coming up in his mind. That was not the man he had come to love and care for. As more memories rushed though his head, he became more depressed.

* * *

It was not fair, Fred thought as he was tucked by his mother in a very nice bed. Where was Severus tonight? Where did he sleep? Was he ever going to see him again?

George, who refused to leave his side, climbed down on the bed next to him. He looked very thin and hollow eyed.

"Have you worried much?" asked Fred when they where at last alone.

"Naw," shrugged George. "Only out of my mind."

"I am sorry. I did not know what I was doing."

"What where you doing?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Fred, this is me! This is us!"

"Ask me who I was doing," Fred smirked.

"Merlin's twisted boxers!" gasped George sitting up. "That is so unfair, the one time you are out of my sight, and you get in to someone's trousers."

"Not anybody's trousers," smirked Fred, his mind now rushing to fall back in to its old grooves, surprisingly it was quite easy.

"Tell me!" his brother almost bounced.

Fred looked around the lavish guest bedroom. They were alone, but he still moved closer to his brother. He lent over and whispered the name in George's ear.

There was silence that lasted for about a minute, while the twins starred at each other.

"You slut!" snickered George.


	25. Lost and found

After the incident of the entire top Ministry staff being locked in, the pressure to get the Ministry of Magic building up and running again was on. Sure, the same thing could not happen again, since Lucius Malfoy was now permanently settled within the Manor wards, but it was still clear that this post-war location solution could not go on for much longer. So for the next two days there was a rush to get everything in working order.

The Malfoy case had now been pushed forward, seeing that the punishments for actual Death Eater crimes were more important than economical retribution. After having lost their biggest case-name the Aurors had been even more bent on hard sentences for the rest of the accused. The first court day, witch originally had been for Lucius, three Death Eaters: McNair, Goyle sr. and Crouch jr., where all sent to Azkaban without any mercy.

The responses to these cases were adequate. Still there was something missing, something that the press and wizarding community could get their teeth into, a high profile case to get the word out that the Ministry and the Wizenganot were alive and kicking. With Severus Snape still on free foot, the Aurors eyes turned to the closest thing they had to image the potential greatness of the Lucius Malfoy case – the case against Draco Malfoy.

On the third day, after his return to the Malfoy Manor, Draco Malfoy would get his sentence.

* * *

The morning of this day was simply glorious, the sun was shining and the bright colours of autumn leaves decorated the Manors garden. The last ministry officials had left the house, leaving it to the incarcerated Malfoys, some Hogwarts students with families whose homes were damaged, a couple of patients from St. Mungos, and of course Harry Potter, who was best of where he was. Also staying at the Manor was the Weasleys, even Bill and Fleur who had travelled there as soon as they heard Fred was back.

* * *

Hermione had gone to Australia to find her parents, and left Ron, or rather Ron's mother, with the close care of Harry. It had taken quite a lot of convincing to get her to leave, but in the end she had given in and left by Portkey from the garden, taking only three plane tickets and her wand with her. Ron was still blushing red after her farewell kiss. George was taunting him over his redness; Fred was more solemn but managed to press out a teasing remark. The returned twin had not regained his former boisterous attitude, George was the only one that did not notice – or maybe he was the only one who really understood.

"Shut it," growled Ron to his annoying brother, still quite happy about the kiss. "You are just jealous."

As they walked back to the Manor they were greeted by the new headmistress of Hogwarts; Minerva McGonagall. She smiled at the three boys, giving Fred a kind pat on the cheek.

"I'm looking for the Minister," she said after the cordial phases had been exchanged. "I have found something at Hogwarts that will interest him, about Severus Snape. It looks as if the is not as guilty as we might have thought. "

"What?!" Fred's neck had shoot up at the mention of the name.

"It seems that Professor Snape left all his memories to Mr. Potter as he prepared to die," said Minerva. "Then Mr. Potter seems to, carelessly, have forgotten them in the Headmaster's… my office."

"Have you seen them?" asked Fred stepping forward with a ravenous look on his face.

"I… I have, Mr. Weasley," she retorted, a little taken back. "That is why I need to talk to the Minister; he needs to see them too."

"The Minister is busy," said Fred. "We'll give them to him."

"Oh, I don't know…" The old teacher's knowing eyes squinted at the animated twins. "What are you up to?"

"Professor!" George looked shocked. "We are honest businessmen, not pranksters."

"Your business is built on pranks, Mr. Weasley."

"Please, Professor," Fred stepped forward, chocking both his brothers and the old woman with the pleading sound in his voice. "Can I have the memories? I promise I will give the Minister what he needs. Do you really want him to see everything?"

"Well," Minerva's eyes shifted as she thought about what she had seen. "There were some… hrm… episodes, that I think Professor Snape would regard as private."

"Professor?" questioned Fred holding out his hand.

"What is your concern, Mr Weasley?"

"I… I…"

"It would not be fair," George stepped in. "To Professor Snape, if he is innocent, to have his private life turned to common knowledge. If the Minister sees it, then the Aurors, then the Wizenganot, where will it end? You know what kind of man the professor is."

"You rush quite quickly to his defence, Mr. Weasley," noted the old woman suspiciously. "And I would not call him innocent, just 'not as guilty'. What is your concern in this?"

"It is me," sighed Fred, knowing that the Headmistress would not settle for anything less than the truth. "I love him."

There was silence.

"Yeeewww!" exclaimed Ron.

* * *

"I am beginning to suspect that something is up," proclaimed Lucius Malfoy as he stood by the window looking down at three Weasley brats and McGonagall on the house path. "Why have we not been allowed to see Draco?"

"I an equally concerned, my love," said Narcissa gently clad in her silk nightdress from the bed. "But we are not in position to make demands."

"Is it a demand for a father to see his son?"

"The way you say it, it is."

"What do you mean?" Lucius came to sit down next to her legs, putting a light hand on her soft thigh.

"Ask them if you can see him, do not shout at them to show him to you." Narcissa laid her hand on his. "Just like we have been practicing with the house elves, dear."

"Yes, the elves," smiled Lucius. "I have worked on that."

He gave her leg a pat and rose from the bed. With a scheming smile he walked over to the finely carved dresser. He pushed the fixture to the side, exposing its backside. Opening a hidden compartment he pulled out a purse.

"Lucius, no!"

"Oh yes."

He rose and pushed the dresser back in its place. Counting the golden Galleons in the purse he returned to his wife. She just sighed, rolled her eyes and gave him a loving smile.

"Tibbit!" called Lucius laying up a row of seventeen Galleons on the side of the bed.

* * *

Harry stirred in his bed as the Aurors came to collect Draco from the dungeons. He did not awake, and Remus who guarded over him only thought it was a dream. With a sigh he went back to his papers. He had taken his Ministry work with him. For the moment the business of the Department for the Care, Preservation and Protection of Magical Creatures was more about the individual creatures that had fought in the war, than anything else. Remus knew that this job was hard work and a great responsibility, but if he could make the future better for his son, he would do it.


	26. Going places

Draco was Apparated side along with a big Auror. He wondered when they had begun to think that he actually could fight his way free. He held back a snort when the big man magically tied his hands and grabbed his upper arm. As he was led though the Manor to the apparition point he noticed that more than usual house elves where out looking at him. Usually the elves did their best to stay out of everybody's way and sight. Tibbit even seemed to decide to come with him. And indeed, when Draco held out his free arm to the creature, it jumped forward and took his hand like a small child.

"Tibbit will go with master," said the elf. "Make good character witness."

Draco blinked; he had noticed the change in title the elf had used. That could only mean two things; either the elf had given up his freedom, unlikely since he was still wearing the shirt. The other choice was that his father was home.

"Sure, Tibbit," Draco smiled down at the elf. "Just what I need."

The big Auror snorted, but moved on though the halls to the point.

To his surprise, he was not Apparated directly to the Ministry of Magic, but to its front steps. This action was soon explained as at least ten flashing cameras went off in his face at the same time. There was a crowd of people waiting for them. Most of them seemed to be protesters holding up big magical signs, most of the signs where accusing him for crimes he never done. Reporters rushed forwards, quills at the ready.

"Mr. Malfoy, how do you feel?"

"You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"Mr. Malfoy, are you a Death Eater?"

"Draco, are you not to young to stand trial?"

"Mr. Malfoy, where is your father? Why is he not here?"

"Murderous scum! Rot in Azkarban!"

"Draco, sneer at the camera again!"

"How do you fell about Harry Potter?"

"Is it true that you tried to kill him?"

"Is he dead?"

After some more questions, that he was not allowed to answer, he was roughly pushed inside the Ministry. Behind him he could hear Tibbit bravely scolding the protesters.

* * *

"Do you know what you are doing?" asked George.

"No," Fred held the bottled memories close to him.

"Good," his brother smiled. "I thought we were in trouble."

"Mr. Weasley," McGonagall sighed, quickly regretting turning the bottle over. "I suggest that you begin to locate a Pensieve. I'm sure that there is one somewhere in the Manor."

"Good plan, Professor!" George smiled. "We can ask Mr. Malfoy."

"You can not be serious!" exclaimed Ron. "You are even madder than this one!" He indicated Fred.

"Then you have to shift though the memories choosing the ones to keep…"

"We are keeping them all!" Fred hugged the bottle to him. "When we find Severus we will give them back to him."

"It will take a little more, than just to 'give them back', Mr. Weasley," she puffed. "There are copies of a lifetime of memories in there, and if what you say is true…"

"It is!"

"…then Professor Snape has lost all of the original memories. It is going to take some strong magic to give them back to him."

"We are in a bad circle here," George scratched the light stubble on his chin as they walked towards the Malfoy's private rooms. "To give the memories back to Snape we need strong magic, Harry would be our best chance. But then to wake Harry we will probably need Snape, with all of his memories restored."

"And we do not have Snape," said Ron.

"When the Minister sees the memories," McGonagall pointed out," Severus will no longer be hunted as a murderer. He would only be a missing person."

"Yes," agreed Fred. "But he will not know that. I have to look for him myself; he will trust me, not the Aurors."

They had arrived at the main bedroom. After a moment's hesitation, Fred knocked at the door.

Lucius Malfoy looked surprised as he opened the doors. He quickly came to his senses and raised an eyebrow in interest. Behind him Narcissa lay in the bed under a big book. She peered up at the visitors.

"Yes?" asked Lucius folding his arms in a intimidating way. "How can I be of service to my jailors today?"

"Do you have a Pensieve?" asked George, trying to keep a steady voice.

"I have," Lucius eyed the bottle in Fred's hands. "That is a lot of memories, young man."

"Can we use it, please Mr. Malfoy?" asked McGonagall sternly.

"Of course, Headmistress," Lucius bowed to her. "Your word is my law." He turned to his wife. "I will soon be back, my love."

* * *

"It is in the Astrological room," said Lucius and held out his hand to show them the way. "May I ask whose memories you are penetrating?"

"You may not," scowled Ron.

"Testy child," Lucius glanced back at him. "I am glad my son has manners."

"Maybe manners, but not decorum," muttered Ron.

"That is a big word," noted the older Malfoy. "I am very interested on what you base this statement on."

"Let us just say…" said Ron "…that I have seen your son do things that would not count as good behaviour."

"Now you really intrigue me," Lucius gave him a curios smile.

He led them up the stairs to a room at the third floor. It was mostly decorated in blue and gold. There was a roof skylight, enchanted to show the sky even if there was another floor above them, for the moment the sky was blue with out a cloud. The tall shelves were full of books on astrology and other fortune telling subjects. There were also several, more or less, complicated instruments, ranging from simple telescopes to entire models of the solar system. It was an impressive room, even if it was clear that is was not often in use.

Lucius walked over to a cupboard. As he opened it they could see an impressive collection of memories in small golden vials, many of them had names or events written up on them. Most of the more recent ones were memories of Draco as a child. There was also a finely sculpted stone Pensieve.

"Dwarf craftsmanship," said Lucius pulling out the basin. "14th century, I trust you to be careful."

"Absolutely," McGonagall was almost breathless, her stern outlook forgotten at the sight of the work of art. "Take care, children. This must be one of the first ones made of the inventor himself."

"You got a good eye, Madame," complicated Lucius. He let his forefinger slide along the side of stone and suddenly he looked sad. "The last one in private ownership…"


	27. Looking for things to give up

A/N: Snape's part is based on the song 'Nothing Else Matters' by Metallica, Harry's part is inspired by 'I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For' by U2

"Azkaban!" bellowed the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and stuck his big club down on the desk before him. "No pardon!"

There was mix of cheers of joy and cries of protest I the courtroom. Reporters began to ask questions leaning over the railing. Draco's appointed defender (the family's regular attorney under investigation) looked desperately though his papers. The nervous man looked up to the Warlock.

"Considering the accused party's young age there would…"

"The crimes are severe enough to overlook this fact."

"Your Honour! This is an outcry!" came from the stands.

"Mr. Weasley, you have had your say in the box, now let justice take its course!"

"This is not justice!" Arthur banged his hand to the railing. "This is revenge, on a child!"

"I will hold you in contempt, if you do not sit right down!"

Draco sat still, looking at his hands. The rape and attempted murder of Harry Potter had come up. He had not thought of it as common knowledge, it was now anyway. This together with the assist in the murder of Dumbledore and the fact that he let the enemy in to Hogwarts was enough to convince the majority of the Wizengamot of his guilt. And, he had held the entire top staff of the Ministry locked up for over five hours, which counted as kidnapping, go figure. It did not help that Tibbit had tried to strangle one of the more rancid name calling reporters. At least there were no more Dementors at Azkaban anymore. Just angry criminals and guards happy too look the other way, for the right prize.

"Your Honour, the boy and his father has left enough information to help investigations in several cases," protested the appointed aid. "If it was not for them we would not even have a working court at this moment. They have even lent their home out to the overcrowded hospitals and to families whose own homes were destroyed."

Draco growled and hit his head against his knees, holding his hands over the neck; he was so dead. As soon as he arrived to Azkaban, he was dead.

"The rape is not even confirmed, the… the… the victim has not even been heard! There has no even been a medical…"

"And why is that?" said a witch next to the Warlock. "Your client has silenced him! That is why!"

"The decision is made," the Warlock fixed his eyes to the legal aid. "The condemned will return to the holding cell tonight and be transferred to the island tomorrow morning with the other prisoners. Thirty minutes rest before next case."

Cameras flashed as Draco was pushed to his feet.

"What of his funds?!" called a brave reporter.

"The hearing of the Malfoy fortune will be…" the Warlock looked though his papers and whispered with some of his neighbours, "…a week from now, on the third of December. At this time both father and son Malfoy will be present."

If I survive a week, thought Draco.

* * *

The further away from the village and Fred he came, the more Snape felt his heart close in on him. He did not know if he could take any more. Maybe he just should give himself up, and hope for the best. But deep in his core, he knew: surrender had never been an option for him. What ever happened, he had to trust himself, which was all he got. He could not let anything else matter, not even his heart. There was a feeling telling him that this was not the first time he had lost who he loved.

Yet, he knew, that he really had been open with the young man. The feeling had been so unfamiliar; he must have not done that many times before. It was frustrating having familiar and unfamiliar feelings, especially when he did not remember why the feelings had come to be that way. This was his life, he lived it, and he did not know why. There was some meaning in these words, and he knew that is was important to find out what.

Trust, that what was he had felt in Geor… Fred's arms. That had been an unfamiliar feeling, he thought. Trust. They had learned something new together every day just because they had trusted each other, where open to each other. Together they had been the only thing that mattered. Neither of them had cared what others thought of them. The farmer had been given them curios glances when they declined the offer of a second bed. All that mattered was that they knew themselves. Snape was wondering how one did go about to give one self up.

* * *

"Harry?" asked Ginny looking up from her elf poetry book.

She was sitting in a big soft armchair, levitated from the big library, to make it comfortable for ever who was on guard duty. It was Ginny's turn and she had settled for a calm six hours.

"Are you awake?" she asked, a little scared. Harry's eyes seemed to stare right though her. "Are you all right?"

She gasped as he climbed out of the bed, standing wobbling on the floor. She held out a hand and waved it in front of him, he did not react. A sudden snoring sound made her jump back, biting her lower lip. Suddenly Harry ran for the door. Ginny followed.

He kept running though the hall, suddenly stumbling and falling. Ginny gasped and went down on her knees beside him, not knowing what to do, not even if she should touch him. He looked so fragile in the too big pyjamas. As he tried to decide for an action, Harry began to crawl on all four; he came to a set of stairs and began to climb up.

"What ze…" Fleur came up behind them

"Schh" wheezed Ginny. "I think he is sleepwalking. We can not wake him!"

"Where iz é going?" she joined her sister in law.

"I think he is looking for something."

As Harry came to the landing on the top of the stairs, he began to look under tables, chairs, and shelves.

Harry stroked his lips gently with his fingertips as he was remembering some kind of distant pleasant taste. He wandered into Draco's private room. Feeling his way along the walls, stepping back a little from the heat of the fire in the fireplace. He disturbed the single house elf sleeping in the bed as he lifted it up like it was a pillow to look under it. The elf squeaked, not sure of it was honoured or just really confused. The elf, Ginny and Fleur stood back as he continued to search the room, opening drawers, checking wardrobes, lifting carpets.

He stopped as he held his hand out for a colourful sunbeam coming though the window, apparently he could register sights out side his own dream.

"Do you think we should tell somebody?" whispered Ginny as Harry picked up a small family photograph of the three Malfoys and hugged it tight to him.

"É iz coming back" Fleur said and move away form the door to let the sleepwalker pass. "We must zee to zat é not get 'urt."

Ginny nodded, she pulled her wand ready to throw a cushioning spell and Fleur did the same. Harry began to run again, and so did the women. The elf sprinted behind them, its face both worried and excited.


	28. Trying to Understand

Snape stared at his fingertips covered with ink. There was something very familiar with the sight. It was if, in his 'previous' life, he often had ink stains on his hands. It was something normal, something that felt like home. He had taken up the ink-soaked sponge to his nose and breathed in the smell. There where a myriad of intangible memories flowing frustratingly away from him. When the uniformed man offered him to wash his hands he was almost sad to let the stains go. It was odd that the use of soap and water could wash away thoughts and feelings as well as dirt. The uniformed man smiled and gave him a towel.

As he had entered the police station he had insisted that he was a murderer and wanted to give himself up. When the police, a very strange set of people by the way, had discovered that he could neither remember who he had murdered, where it had happened or even when the incident had occurred, they began to treat him as a crazy person. This treatment escalated when he insisted in handing over a little stick, claming that is was very dangerous. He had also stood for almost five minutes staring desperately at the City Picture of Arms, displaying a griffin and a unicorn on either side of a crown. It disturbed him that when he was given a postcard of the arms he felt calm. The red griffin reminded him of Fred.

They had put him in a cell, with quite a comfortable bunk bed, placed a warm blanket over his shoulders and a cup of strong tea in his hands. They had taken his photo and pushed his inked fingertips to a paper, like he was a child learning how to finger paint. He soon lost his temper with their treatment of him.

"Blistering Dunderheads!" he called them, it felt good to finally get to yell at somebody, he found that he had missed it.

After fifteen minutes of colourful insults, including a very surprising treat of deducting points, a middle aged woman entered and stuck a strange needle in his arm. About five minutes later he was asleep.

* * *

There had formed a small tail of spectators following Harry around the Manor as he continued his sleepwalking search.

"What do you think he is looking for?" asked Clare, a seventh year Ravenclaw, who had been staying at the Manor while her parents rebuilt their house.

"I don't know," said Ginny wondering the same thing. "He seems to be very determined though."

As they reached the third floor, Harry seemed to show signs of exhaust. He panted heavily and sat down on the floor, leaning his back to a door. Again he touched his lips, following the arches with his fingertips.

"Do you zink we should take 'im back to 'is room?" Fleur asked her husband.

Bill scratched his chin looking down at the man. Harry was still holding on to the silver framed family picture. For a wizard photo it was surprisingly still, the strict postures of the Malfoys where nothing to the Weasley family pictures, where at least one of the brothers always held up two fingers behind someone else's head.

"Maybe," Bill was not sure and bent down to look at the man more closely, now that he was settled. "He seems to be dreaming of something very intense. His eyes are moving fast."

Then Harry's brilliant green eyes met his, though it was clear that Harry was still asleep and did not see Bill in front of him.

A sudden look of terror fell upon Harry's face. His unexpected scream made the small company jump. Harry began to fence his arms as he was defending himself from something. Another scream and a mirror across the hall exploded into small pieces. A big Chinese vase fell to the floor from its pillar and broke with a loud crash. Harry kept on screaming and trashing, Bill grabbed hold of him.

"No," Harry whimpered. "Let him live this time, let him live…"

Another vase toppled over, but was saved in the last second by the house elf.

The door that they were leaning against opened and both Harry and Bill fell to Lucius Malfoys feet. The tall man raised an eyebrow.

"And what is the meaning destroying my home?" asked Lucius. "It is still mine is it not, or has the plunder already begun?"

"Sorry," blushed Ginny, helping the elf picking up the pieces of the destroyed vase. "Harry was sleepwalking."

"I think he had a nightmare," Bill got to his feet; he was too worried to show any caution around the former Death Eater. "He had a magic outburst."

Lucius bent down and took the framed picture from the floor, where Harry had dropped it. He looked quite sad as he studied the portrait. George and Ron came up from behind him. Ron sat down beside Harry, who had now calmed down and was sleeping his regular comatose sleep.

Bill bent down and lifted up Harry in his arms. After the awesome display of uncontrolled wandless magic that Harry had shown, Bill did not want to use his own magic to either lighten the man or to levitate him, fearing that he might trigger some damage in Harry's magic field. Bill staggered a little at the weight, he was not as strong as Charlie, and the banking world did not often call for heavy lifts.

"Give him to me," said Lucius, placing the picture on a nearby table, holding out his arms. "You are obviously going to drop him."

There was a tense gasp going though the small group. Lucius rolled his eyes.

"I am not going to run off with him," he growled, taking Harry decidedly from Bill. "I am only offering to help."

* * *

Draco was pushed though the Manor doors. One last night in the dungeons and then of to Azkaban, and then Merlin knows what. He hoped he could be able to meet his parents before he left. Arthur Weasley had told him about the house arrest and was glad that his mother and father had been spared his faith.

His hands where bound. His clothes were already changed into the, unfitting, grey, yellow and black prison robes. He was carrying a very upset Tibbit on his hip, the elf had tried to attack the press once again and Draco had been ordered to control him. He was flanked by the bulky Auror and Arthur Weasley.

As they made their way through the house to the dungeons, they came upon a sight Draco never could have expected in his wildest imagination. His Father was coming towards him with Harry Potter, safely sleeping in his arms. There was small group of people following him, Bill Weasley one of them.

His father stopped, taking in Draco's clothes. Of course he would recognize the uniform; he had worn it himself for a length of time. His eyes were hard, a stone face, before this point only spared for the presence of the Dark Lord, settled on him.

"At least the Dementors are gone," said his father solemnly and passed him by with Draco's beloved burden.


	29. Sorting It Out

"Can we not take this away?" asked Fred.

He was looking down at a ten year old Severus crying himself to sleep alone in a dark room.

"Mr. Weasley, we are not here to Obliviate Professor Snape," McGonagall's voice was stern but her eyes were rimmed with tears. "In taking away bad childhood memories you are changing pieces of his adult personality." She sighed. "I agree that Severus personality as its flaws… But a memory like this, hurtful and sad as it may be, might have triggered his development of empathy, or even giving him the determination to join the Death Eaters in the first place."

"Then why not…?"

"If you take away the reason for him to join the Death Eaters," she turned to her teacher mood, "…you may take away part of the reason why he had to leave them."

Fred sighed, he knew she was right. He did not want to change Severus personality, even if… He winched as he observed himself and George leave another pile of exploding dung-bombs outside the Slytherin House and getting caught in the act by Professor Snape. He could remember the fear his twelve-year-old self felt as he and his brother was dragged to the Hogwarts dungeons. He felt a little ashamed over that his former Head of House could see some of the pranks that she had missed the first time around. She shook her disapprovingly as Severus was showered with a bucket of water the twins had meant for a Hufflepuff.

As they continued to explore and sort out the memories, Fred became more and more worried. He bit his lip, as once more Professor Snape scolded him and ordered him to polish all the trophies in the trophy room. If… when… when Severus got his memories back, he would remember all of this too. Could the man still care for Fred after remembering? Fred had come to terms with that he still was in love after all of the scolding, detentions, punishments and down right hateful remarks had come back to him, but would Severus fell the same? He was after all a Slytherin, he had held a grunge on Harry's father alive since age eleven, and he was, after all, Severus Snape.

"Here we come to the important part," said McGonagall, interrupting his thoughts.

He looked up to see a Snape, about Charlie's age, sitting in Dumbledore's office crying. Dumbledore sat behind his desk holding a sleeping raven-haired baby to his chest, a lightning shaped scar of dried blood was visible on the child's forehead.

"He promised me he would not hurt her…" Severus sobbed. "He promised me!"

"Tom was never the one to keep his word…" sighed Dumbledore. "You should have known that by now."

"I can not stay there anymore," Severus tried to gain control of himself. "I want to leave Him, never see Him again!"

"You know I can not grant you that," Dumbledore rocked the infant Harry as the baby stirred. "You are too valuable. This boy need all of the help he can get now."

"You want me to spy." It was not a question.

As Fred and McGonagall stepped out of the Pensieve they noticed that they were alone in the room. McGonagall bottled the memories they have chosen and copied.

"I am taking these to the Minister," she said and paused. "I trust you with the rest, Mr. Weasley. I hope you do what is right with them."

"You can trust me, Professor."

"If this is what love does for you, Fred" she smiled as she used his given name, "…I highly recommend you finding a companion for your brother as well."

She left at that. Fred looked after her, wondering where the others had gotten to. After a couple of seconds his attention was drawn back to the Pensieve. There had been some memories they had skipped over quite quickly, intimate ones. His lover was certainly no blushing rose, he had a healthy appetite. Fred's boisterous side kicked in, you can not expect a tiger to shed all of his stripes at once, or at all. He gave a wicked smile.

* * *

Ron was on night watch duty. He sat in the armchair by Harry's bedside and read a letter from Hermione. She had sent him notice as soon she had found her parents. They had been quite surprised to get back their old personalities and find themselves living in Australia. It was going to take a little time coming back to England since the two had set up a relatively successive dental practice in Brisbane. Hermione also told him that she had met with the Australian wizarding community. She was happy to report that they were very helpful and that they might be able to have a solution to some of their problems with Harry. She was going to write back when she had done more research.

"More research," snorted Ron, "She is in Australia, could she not relax for…" he went quiet, terror spreading in his body. Harry was not in the bed. "Shit."

Ron rose, laying the letter aside and looking around in the room. There was no sign of Harry anywhere. He stepped outside the door, nothing. Shit, he thought again, he had lost Harry. Now knowing the tendency for sleepwalking, maybe they should have tied him to the bed. Worriedly he ran around, looking in the closest rooms. Reluctantly, he even searched Draco's room but found only a pile of sleeping house elves on the bed. He did not bother to wake any of them.

Ron continued to look around as he made his way to Bill and Fleur's room. It was a big place, Harry could be anywhere. Of course this was going to happen now at his watch. Like he was not in enough trouble being secret keeper, now this was happening as well. He wondered if this was going to affect his chances of getting in to Auror education. Fleur opened the door wearing a short negligee that Ron's head spin and his nose prickle.

"Yez?" she looked totally oblivious to his reaction. "Is it 'Arry?"

* * *

"So that is it then," said Narcissa lying with her head to her husband's bare chest, she had been crying, his skin was damp.

"Arthur Weasley said they would bring him by us in the morning, before…" Lucius did not finish the sentence."

"My baby boy…"

"I wish I could take his place," Lucius held her closer. "They are doing this to him because of me."

"I forgive you," whispered Narcissa. "I just wish I could have seen him as well."

There was a slight knocking on the door.

"Yes?" asked Lucius.

The door opened and Bill Weasley looked in, he looked a bit embarrassed at the obvious intimacy between the two, and the fact that Narcissa's tears were still visible.

"Sorry to disturb," he said. "You have not seen Harry have you?"

"How could they even win the war?" moaned Narcissa. "They seem to misplace each other half the time."

"I will help you look," Lucius rose from the bed pulling on a dressing robe. "Merlin knows you need all the help you can get."


	30. Found and Lost

Draco was counting the stones in his cell; he had reached two hundred and forty six. He hated the clothes, obviously. They where of a horrible cut, ghastly colour and he was sure that they were second hand. And they felt like some kind of cotton blend. Draco was happily admitting that he was a snob and proud of it. At least in being a snob, he had nice things. What was he going to have now? Would he even have his life? He was disturbed in his thoughts by some noise outside the door. His father's voice was clearly distinguishable, it was upset.

He got to his feet as he heard Harry's name being mentioned. As he approached the door, the peeping hole was opened and Lucius's face filled the void. His father did not look very pleased with him. At any other time Draco would have lowered his head, but not now, he met the disapproving eyes.

"Father…" said Draco with a curious nod.

"Son," acknowledged Lucius.

"What brings you here?" Draco put on his host voice.

"I have been giving some interesting reading…"

"And what is that?"

"Your sentence…"

"Indeed?" Draco sat down on the floor again.

"Is it true? Did you do those things to Potter? "

"Technically…" stalled Draco. "I did not kill him, obviously. And I actually think that he was coming on to me, so it was provocation."

"'Technically'? 'Provocation'?"

"He was coming on to me! I think…" Draco bit his lip. "Anyway… I was only following orders, your orders, the Dark Lord's… You told me to…"

"I am perfectly aware what I told you to do," hissed Lucius with a glance to the bulky Auror. "Where you aware of the Dark Lord's demise when you did it? Did you not think that this would contradict the orders?"

"Yes," Draco played with the hem of his ugly shirt. "It did not seem to matter at the time. I was a bit upset…"

Lucius massaged the root of his nose. He had tried to raise his son to his own image, but still discovered flaws. The boy was of age now and the flaws where probably there to stay.

"I love him, Father."

He looked up. Draco was now standing up next to the peephole; the words had not been loud enough for anyone else to hear. Father and son locked grey eyes.

"We are the last Malfoy," said Lucius. "After us, the line is gone."

"It will all be given to Teddy Lupin," said Draco.

"Lupin?" Lucius searched his vast mind. "The werewolf's son? Andromeda's grandchild?"

"One more reason to keep mother alive and healthy," Draco gave a mock laugh.

* * *

"Where did you find him?" asked Molly Weasley tucking in Harry tightly in the bed sheets.

"He was laying down in the dungeons," said Bill. "Outside that cell they keep Draco Malfoy in. He was on the floor."

"Maybe he was searching again," said Ron, he winched and gave a deep sigh. "Maybe he found it."

"What do you mean?" Molly looked up.

"It is not really…" Ron blushed. "I mean… Harry and I, like, we have been talking… before like…"

"Are you meaning sex, dear?" Molly smiled.

"Mom!" Bill held his hands over his ears.

"It is perfectly natural, sweetheart," Molly patted his cheek. "I do not have seven children for nothing you know."

"Mom!"

"Tell me now, dear," she sat down on the side of the bed and gestured for Ron to do the same. "What were you and Harry talking about?"

"You know…" Ron sat down, quite red. "Boy stuff, like, and stuff."

"Yes?"

"We were like, talking who we fancied and so…"

"Boy stuff, yes," nodded Molly like she knew all about it, and probably did.

"And Harry said he fancied Draco and…" Ron reddened even more. "That is why I did not beat his lights out when I saw… I mean… That is why I agreed to be secret keeper…"

"What did you see?"

"Please, mom! Do not make me say it!"

"So you think that is was Draco Harry was looking for before?" asked Bill.

"It is possible…" Ron shrugged and patted his friend's leg. "It seems to fit. He had those terrible nightmares all trough the two weeks Draco was missing, and so on…"

"Are you saying that there is some kind of magical connection between them?"

"I do not think anything," Ron showed his hands. "I am just guessing…"

"Well, it sounds logical, dear," said his mother. "Poor, poor boys…"

"Mom, don't cry," Bill pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.

"And now he is going to Azkaban," Molly blew her nose. "It is not just fair. The boy saved Fred's life, twice."

"We will do our best to get a retrial, I promise," Bill patted her back. "Dad has already sent in a petition."

"You are being awfully nice, dear, considering…"

"Yes," Bill sighed and pulled his hand over his scared face. "I know Greyback entered the castle because Malfoy let him inside… But I believe him when he said that he did not know who was going to come." Bill sighed again. "He opened a door; he can not be blamed for who used it."

"Oh," Molly took her son in her arms and wept.

Ron sat still, holding a hand on Harry's knee.

After his mother and brother had left, Ron moved to the armchair again, determined not to let Harry out of his sight. He even put on a ward that would sound if Harry would make any move to rise again. He took up Hermione's letter and read it again. He missed her and having her on the other side of the world did not do much for settling him down for the night. With a sigh he took one of the old magazines he had found in Draco's room and began to read.

* * *

Narcissa was almost asleep when Lucius returned to the bed. She snuggled up to him with a sigh. He was deeply troubled over something, she could sense it, but she knew better than to ask him now. It could wait until the morning. She was quite saddened by the fact that her condition probably would keep her from him the next months. But still she thought that would not prevent her from giving him some release. She smiled to herself as his breath heightened and her hand searched its way down his stomach.


	31. Going to Crack

A/N: Harry's dream is based on 'Cry' by James Blunt

Draco arrived at the doors of Azkaban the fourth of December. He was handed over by the bulky Auror to a not as bulky guard. The island fortress was terrifying, with or without Dementors. The stones seemed to taken have their personality from the former jailors and radiated a feeling of despair. Walking though the corridors, he could feel the other prisoners. A disregarded newspaper lying in the empty common room said it all, he was so dead. The front picture was of him, staring in to the camera. "Death Eaters exposed from within – Malfoy sings".

He could hear voices and threats coming from the cell area. Some where banging on their doors, others where just screaming obscenities. Draco panicked and did the first thing that came to his mind. He turned around and head butted the guard right in the nose.

The surprised guard roared, echoing the prisoners. More guards rushed in and wrestled Draco painfully to the floor. He was bound with at least four body binds before the chaos settled. Draco smiled bitterly to himself as he has violently manhandled and thrown in to a dark isolation cell. He had survived his first day.

* * *

Harry stood on a cliff. Behind him was peace, in the depth was pain. It all depended on him, on his name. A name that he never chose and a destiny that was… What was his destiny? He looked down the great pit of pain and wondered if he really should jump. He was surrounded by lies. Everybody had lied to him. The truth was behind a fog, the fog soared over the pit. I have to jump to get to the truth, he thought. This statement made him feel very troubled. He looked out over the void again. He wished he had someone to talk to. He laid himself down on the edge of the cliff and began to cry. He missed his friends.

He had seen the rebirth of the Dark Lord, he had seen, been responsible for, the death of the same. He had seen Cedric's last breath, and Dumbledore's, and Snape's and Fred's… and many more. Guilt raged though his body, he let his arm dangle over the abyss. Should he fight this? Should he rise and go back to the place of peace? What was the use? Hesitation, the worst enemy.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Draco's voice behind.

Harry did not want to turn around knowing the sight. He could feel the blood running down the blonde's body; he did not have to see it. Please don't let me see it, again. Still he depended on the presence, and was glad that there was one friend there with him.

They had lived though so much. If they just could live though this too, everything would be all right. Harry could feel hands behind him, on him, stroking his back. The touch was erotic, but also sticky, sticky like blood.

"Hold on to your heart," whispered an unknown voice.

"I am not crying," protested Harry, sobbing harder.

He gave in to the touch, knowing that he had to turn around eventually. This is how I tear my life apart, he thought. This is how I am going to live.

Harry remembered seeing fear in the faces around him. But he had also seen faith, faith in him. Who was he to give so much faith? They hade believed in him, all of them. They had trusted him. On what grounds? That he was alive?

He remembered the angry look on Draco's face the seconds before he was shoved on the bed. What had he done wrong? He had just wanted to talk really… Well not only talk, he smiled though the tears. What he really needed was a shoulder to cry on. The shoulder of a friend would do nicely. He sighed as the hands on his back pushed him over the edge of the cliff.

* * *

Ron awoke by Harry's scream. He threw the magazine of his chest and stumbled to the bed. He began fiddling with the vials and bottles by the side of the bed, which one was it? Harry trashed around, fighting of imaginary shadows. Finally Ron found the right bottle. With all of his strength he managed to get Harry's limbs under control. Narcissa Malfoy's vanity mirror exploded on the dresser. Ron forced the potion down Harry's throat. Holding his friends nose and mouth, he made Harry swallow the foul tasting liquid. The trashing subsided, the man was breathing easily again. Ron rolled of him, he looked out the window. It was morning; Draco Malfoy had left the building.

* * *

Three days later the last four remaining guests of Malfoy Manor where sitting around Harry's bed. St. Mungos's staff had collected the last of their patients. The homeless had all gotten their homes repaired or found new ones. Left at the Manor was now only Molly, the twins and Ron. Bill and Fleur had gone to the Burrow.

Molly was knitting something for Christmas; it was probably for Harry since she went over to him time and again to check the length of his arms. Ron sighed as his mother did this for the fifth time. Was she expecting to Harry to shrink or something? He had got a new letter from Hermione. Her parents had decided to stay and settle an Australia. She had quite mixed feelings over this.

* * *

Fred was tired, on top of everything, he had his own worries. He did not trust the Aurors to find Severus in the Muggle world. George had been a great support but a brother can only do that much. He looked at the sleeping man, and was suddenly jealous. His lack of concentration almost lost him an eyebrow as George trumped in Exploding Snap.

"Get your head out of your pants," said George.

"I wish we could do something," sighed Fred.

"The joke shop will be up and running next week. We have just about time to get the Christmas rush. We should work on some advertising…"

"That is not what I meant."

"I know, brother dear," George gave him an unruly smile. "And I agree totally."

"What?"

"We will go looking for him by ourselves!"


	32. Got to Get Out

Draco was shaking internally; externally he was as calm as ice. His head was held high and his face was a mask. A life time of aristocratic wizard grooming had saved his life. While he was in the isolation cell, one more article had been published in the Prophet. His father and mother had disowned him, publicly and officially. It was even registered at the Ministry. This together with the, failed but still impressive, attempt on Potter's life was enough to give him some status among the other prisoners. Even if it pained him that his parents had to say all those horrible things about him.

The war was over and he still had to live a double life, more even. Is had been hard enough to be a Death Eater and a student with homework. Now, what was he now? He was a condemned Death Eater, an attempted murderer, a rapist. He was the disowned son; he was the son that was so loved that his parents went to any length for him. He was a man in love, a man in doubt of his sanity and a man on the brink of taking his life. It was strange that he was not falling apart.

He was also a troublemaker, the guard with the broken nose glared on him, just waiting for a false move. It did nothing to calm his nerves.

The other prisoners had adopted a 'live and let die'-attitude to him. He could not have asked for more as he lay in his bunk bed feeling quite satisfied with the situation. It was night and the darkness seemed to conjure up the stone memory of the Dementors. Draco pulled up the blanket to his chin to keep warm, not a good blanket by the way. He was just settling in to sleep when he heard the sound of the locks opening in his door. He tensed up, they were coming for him. Begging for it to be over quickly he tried to relax and wait for the first blow. It never came. Instead, to his absolute horror and delight, Harry Potter slipped down next to him and slept like it was the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

In the morning Draco wished that it was a dream, but there the hero lay snuggled up to him.

"Harry?" he whispered to no reaction.

He shook the limp body, the only reaction something hard pressing to his thigh. For a moment he was tempted, but thought better (or worse) of it. He decided not to distract himself with having sex with an unconscious man in a prison that held almost every person that wanted to kill the said man. It was also obvious that Harry was still asleep. How in the name of Merlin's pants had he gotten here? Azkaban was five counties from the Manor, it had a magical dampening field and it was a prison. How had Harry even known witch one of the cells that where his?

Next question: what was he going to do? 'Excuse me guard, sorry about the nose, I have Harry Potter sleeping in my cell can you please take him out without anyone noticing and wanting to beat me into a pulp?' No, that would not work.

"You stupid fool," said Draco stroking Harry's lightly stubble cheeks. "You stupid, bloody, sexy, fool."

He gave the soft lips a kiss and was pleased that they responded to his touch.

* * *

Ron panicked, he had done it again! He had lost Harry, and this time for real. The Malfoys had not seen him (they had laughed heartily though). The house elves had not seen him. His mother had not seen him. Fred and George were gone too, but they had left a note and said nothing about Harry. Ron felt his career as an Auror slip away as he rushed to the Floo, with his brothers' note clinched in his hand. They had gone after Snape, the fools. He had a strange suspicion that Harry had gone after Draco, absolutely not good.

"Ministry of Magic!" Ron threw down the floo-powder and stepped though the fire.

He arrived at the big Entrance hall. He had not been there since the day they fought in the Department of Mysteries. It looked quite the same, except… Did that statue look like Harry? Ron starred and winced, Harry was not going to like this. He hurried to the elevators.

"Weasley," nodded a wizard with his nose deep in some flies.

Ron nodded back; the man probably took him for his father or Percy, or Charlie, or Bill. He remembered the twins' letter in his hand. He had not given it to his mother. And, he thought with a touch of guilt, he had not told her he was leaving either. She was probably frantic by now.

He stepped of the elevator on the top floor. Looking around at the pompous interior he hurried up the receptionist.

"Ron Weasley," he said to the witch. "I need to see the Minister."

"Do you have an appointment?" she looked at him doubtfully.

"No, but it concerns Harry Potter."

"Sit down over there," she conjured up a chair over in the waiting area, where three other visitors were waiting.

"This is important…"

"Please sit down and wait."

"There is no time…"

"Don't you use that tone of voice with me young man…"

Ron rolled his eyes. Five minutes he thought, and then I am blasting in the doors. Screw Auror training, I can always run errands for Hermione or something. A quiet life at home, teaching the kids to play chess…

* * *

"Okay," Draco dusted his hands. "Let us see how you look. You know it would be so much easier if you were awake."

He had dressed Harry in his prison robe, pulling up the hood. He was thankful for that the Weasleys had not shaved the man's face the last three days. Harry had dark stubble over his chin. Not that Draco was jealous; his cheeks were still quite smooth. But Harry was actually handsome like this.

"Who have heard of someone sleepwalking in to a prison anyway?" muttered Draco as he tried to get the other man to stand up. "Come on, you idiot, you did it once you do it again!"


	33. Getting to Know You

"Get away from me with that contraption, you mud-head," sneered Snape to the orderly with the wheelchair. "I have lost my mind, not my feet!"

"Mr Snape," sighed the young man, trying to suffer the abuse, hiding his fear and trying to uphold some authority, all at the same time. "It is standard procedure…"

"Scatter off!"

On other patients a hospital robe five sizes too big would have looked comical, on this patient however, it looked damn right intimidating. Had he been practicing those moves?

"Please," the orderly swallowed. "Sit down."

"I am walking!" Snape made his why passed the man, robes billowing behind him. "Where am I going?"

Snape was led to and office two floors down. He was greeted by a man in his fifties with grey hair and square glasses, who introduced himself as Doctor Thurstin. They shook hands and Thurstin offered Snape a seat.

"What happened to the other doctor?" snapped Snape, sitting rigid on the soft chair. "That young strumpet I met with yesterday?"

"She decided to hand your case over to me."

"Why?"

"I do not take shit."

"Good for you," Snape could work probably with this man.

"Tell me how you are feeling today, Mr. Snape," Thurstin leaned back, folding his hands over his somewhat round belly.

"Like a vessel for an array of indescribable sensations," he rubbed his right temple shooting a painful headache.

"You talk like a man of education. Where did you go to school?"

"How should I know?"

"Your wound," the doctor pointed to the bandage. "How did you get it?"

"I do not remember. I think it was a dog, big, white… maybe black…" His thoughts drifted of to the steed; do not mention the steed…

"A white or black dog?"

"There could have been one of each," Snape pointed out.

"I see…" Thurston looked at the papers before him. "The medical report says it was a snake, a big one at that."

Snape blinked, he did have strangely mixed feelings about snakes, ranging from pure terror to absolute affection.

"I do not remember," he said.

"Do you like snakes?"

"Some of them," Snape shifted in his seat, irritated over showing this weakness. "Not all…"

"Well…" the doctor looked to his papers again. "This person that you confess killing…"

Snape's eyes flickered over a Christmas card pinned on the doctor's bulletin board, registering the picture. There was something familiar there.

"Long white beard…"

"Sorry?"

"He had long white beard…" Snape repeated still looking at the card.

"Did he have on a red coat?" The Doctors eyes followed Snape's gaze.

"No, I think it was blue. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Thurstin smiled at a private joke.

Snape tried not to scold the man for making fun of him. He also tried to hold on to the sketchy image in his mind. Thurstin rose and unpinned the card from the board. He laid it on the desk in front of Snape. He then took out the postcard with the city arms, with the unicorn and griffin, from his files and laid it beside the first.

"You like these pictures?"

Snape tried not to stare at the red griffin. He missed George, not that Fred character the Pretty boy had described, but his George. Against his will he touched the image of the griffin. To his devastation, there were not only feelings of George…

"What do you feel over that image?"

"Hate," said Snape trying to seed out his conflicting feelings. "Jealousy, anger, love…"

* * *

"Let me do the talking."

"Like you know what to do!"

"I was a Muggle for two weeks."

"Why do you have to have all the fun?"

"He is my… uh… boyfriend!"

"Like I said, you get to have all the fun!"

"Find your own professor. Remus is free now, if you want some tail."

Officer Goodman looked up from his paperwork, surprised by exchange of words. He gazed over to the disturbance in the waiting room. Two redhead men were pushing each other around, both of them were laughing. They wore identical blue jeans and identical blue fleece jackets. They also wore identical faces, Goodman sighed. Why did all the nutters come to him? 'Send them to the newbie', that seemed to be the go around phrase at the station. He rose from his desk and opened the glass door.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?"

George disentangled himself from his brother to look at the Muggle policeman. He was about his age, brown eyes and curly brown hair. Fred took a step forwards.

"Back off, brother," George shoved Fred to the side with a gallant flirting smile. "I saw him first!" He rushed over to the man, whose ears had turned to a redder nuance. "Hi! I am looking for a boyfriend."

"My boyfriend!" Fred blushed, unsure if Severus would approve of the term. "Or… whatever…"

"Is… is he… missing?" asked the shaken officer. "For how long?"

"About seventeen days," said George.

"About three days," said Fred.

The cute Muggle closed his eyes and looked like he was trying to control himself; the twins were used to this look and waited patiently.

"Come in."

"Goodman," said the Muggle and held out his hand to Fred.

"Weasley" said George and stole the hand before his brother. "I am George and this is my brother Fred."

"Simon," the police nodded and freed his hand. "Who is the missing person?" He sat down behind the desk, hit a strange board with his fingertips and stared into a glowing picture frame.

To curios for their own good both twins leaned forward and looked closer at the picture frame. It was a strange picture, with lots of letters and numbers.

"Cool," said George. "That board looks just like that writetype-thing in dad's shed. He would probably love one for Christmas, where can we buy one?"

"George!" Fred exclaimed, though he looked interested too. "We are here to find Severus, not to look for Christmas presents."

"If we find Severus, I can put a festive bow on his…"

"The name!" interrupted Officer Simon Goodman.

* * *

"Snape, Severus Snape," said Doctor Thurstin.

"Yes?" Snape was briskly loosing patience with the man.

"That is unusual name…"

"So…?"

"With that name and your apparent high education, you would think it would be easy to find your records."

"It could be Prince," Snape shifted again not really happy with not seeming to exist. "That is more common is it not?"

"Almost too common," smiled the doctor. "But it is an improvement. Do you have a first name with that?"

Snape tried to think. He went through all the names he knew in his mind. There were distant images of faces passing him by as he repeated them. He murmured them under his breath.

"Say them out loud,"

"Albus, Remus, Fillius, Sirius, Lucius, Hagrid…"

"Right…" Doctor Thurstin interrupted and made a note in his papers.

Snape was rapidly loosing his temper, and he was a man who could control his feelings. He was tired of not being believed, treated like a madman. Damn it, he knew his name! Why was this man trying to make him doubt it?

"I demand that something is done!" he banged fist to the desk in a hopeless act of fury. "I will not be treated like this!"

A strange tingling went though his spine as, for no apparent reason, all the shelves in Doctor Thurstin's bookcase loosed and fell to the floor with a loud bang. Thurstin stared at the mess, Snape stared at his hand.


	34. Discovery

Hermione hugged her parents goodbye, and promised to return for New Year. She was a bit sad over leaving them on the other side of the world, but was comforted in the fact that they were happy and safe. The Australian dental practice was doing well and they had a nice house. To her surprise, her mother was pregnant. They had missed a child so much when they were memory altered that they decided to get one, even if they both were in their forties. Hermione was touched by this and had arranged for an Australian nurse-witch to look in on her mother during the pregnancy.

She was now clutching a stuffed toy kangaroo, a present for Teddy, and an old single boot, the Portkey that would take her to Cape Town, from where she had another Portkey waiting to take her to England. Her original one-jump journey had been very nauseating. She also had in her bag, except from a heavy pile of interesting books, some gifts from the Aboriginal wizards that would hopefully help her wake Harry up. She closed her eyes as the boot activated and dragged her away.

* * *

Draco had given up his first plan in making Harry Apparate. He had laid the man down on the bunk again, thinking over his options. He could take one of the other prisoners, and exchange… No, then he had to kill a man with his bare hands, not an option. Maybe he could sneak Harry passed the guards, they would not notice one extra prisoner or the fact that Draco was not being treated like air, and carrying an unconscious man to heavy for him. Next. He could prop Harry up like a dummy in the bunk and then hide, making everybody think he was sleeping. But where would he hide? And someone was bound to look at the body in the bunk sooner or later. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"What am I going to do with you?" he grunted.

"Malfoy!" there was a hard rap on the door. "Food!"

Draco pressed himself to the side of the cell as the door opened. He tensed, staring terrified to the opening. A tinplate of porridge was thrown in and landed on the stone floor with a clang. Nobody entered.

"Are you going to starve yourself?" asked the voice of a guard. "More for the rest of the others," the man laughed at what he thought was a funny wordplay.

The door slammed shut. Draco exhaled and slid down the wall feeling the panic leave his body. This was not going to work for too long. Stepping over to the food, he wrinkled his nose. Starvation did sound like a good way to die at this point.

* * *

Molly Weasley wrung her hands and rocked on her seat. She was alone in the big Manor, except from the Malfoys and their elves. She had flooed the Burrow and asked Bill what the Locator clock said.

"George and Fred are travelling," said Bill. "Ron is at work."

"Work?" Molly stared at the face in the fire. "Ron does not have any work."

"He could be at the Ministry," said her son. "Dad's work and… oh now he is travelling too… He…" There was a pause. "He is in Mortal Peril."

"Those boys are going to be the death of me."

"Do not worry mom. I will get Percy and Charlie and we will go look for him."

"Not you too!"

"We will be fine mom, the war is over."

* * *

Ron Apparated as close as he magically could come to Azkaban. He clutched the written permission from the Minister to search Draco Malfoys cell and take anything that did not belong there with him as he left. Shacklebolt had not been that impressed with Ron's theory as he had been with the bravado Ron had demanded action. All he had gotten was the letter, witch had to be enough. Aurors were sent out to search the area around the Manor. The thought of anyone, even Harry Potter, Apparating in sleep was a little too farfetched.

He trembled as he saw the dark castle on the sharp cliffs. He had seen pictures but even wizard pictures were no match for reality. The sea was foaming and roaring, probably enchanted to sound as scary and windy as possible. Ron began to walk towards the dreaded castle. He hoped to Camelot that Harry was inside there. He bit his lip as he came closer and began to feel the remaining shadows of the Dementors in the stones. With each breath he took a step closer, a thought came to his mind, what about Draco? Harry would probably be mad if he woke up and found out that Ron had left Draco behind.

As he pulled his wand, he could not help but feel a little excited. He was like a lone knight coming to the rescue. The feeling was a little subdued when a guard with a broken nose and a big bruise over his face opened the gates.

"That will not make you any good in here," the guard indicated the wand. "Only wands with special sanctioned blood magic work here, and only with their owners."

Hesitantly Ron put his wand away and showed the parchment to the guard.

"I have come to search Draco Malfoys cell."

"A bit young are you not?" the bruised eyes darted over the Ministers signature.

"I am the same age as Malfoy," said Ron.

"Indeed you a…" the guard paused, looking over Ron's shoulder.

Ron turned to see three of his brothers and Hermione half sprinting towards him.

"Ronnie" scolded Charlie. "You should have told us where you were going. It was only when Hermione came and guessed where you where that we found you."

"You guessed?" asked Ron, hugging his girlfriend.

"Quite simple when you think about it," she blushed.

"You coming in or not?" scuffed the guard. "Not good to keep the doors open like this."

The four redheads and the brunette stepped in to the prison, and the door closed heavily behind them.

As they entered the common room there was an upset murmur among the prisoners. Empty curses were cast and threats and whispers about blood traitors followed the Weasleys through the room. Hermione held on to Ron's hand. Percy did his best to keep up appearance but walked a step closer to Charlie than he usually would.

"The brat has been sleeping all day," informed the guard. "Just lays there, not unusual for first-timers, mind you."

He showed them in to a corridor, pushed open a door to his right and stopped in his tracks, staring. Ron looked over his shoulder and smirked.

Draco was sleeping, but next to him on the bunk laid also Harry Potter


	35. Going Out

The guard stood still taking deep breaths. Draco stirred and opened his eyes. He grabbed a tighter hold of Harry, looking like he was going to fight anyone who challenged him to the death. Then he saw the Weasleys and the Granger girl push themselves in to the small cell. Harry's friends sprinted forwards to his side.

"Close the door," hissed Charlie shovelling the guard to the side of the cell. "Bill, Percy, watch the door. Do not let any of the other prisoners see."

Percy looked worried to be left outside, but Bill pulled him reassuringly to his side. The door closed.

"How are we going to get him out?" asked Hermione.

"Fast," said Charlie.

"If the other prisoners see him…" stammered the guard.

"There is going to be a riot," nodded Charlie. "Can you send everybody to their cells?"

"It is not going to work," murmured Draco.

"Why?"

"They have already seen you come in here," he sighed. "They are not stupid. If they get locked into their cells now, they are going to think you are taking me out of here for my protection."

"Do not worry," Ron hesitantly laid his hand on Draco's shoulder. "We are going to get you out too."

"Are you?" Draco looked doubtfully to the redhead.

"We are?" asked Charlie.

"I can take anything with me that I do not think belong in here, it says so on this paper and that includes you."

"Still," Draco continued. "If they think I am leaving, they are going to think that I squealed, and they are not going quiet to their cells. They will be after me."

"I got Harry's invisibility cloak," said Hermione digging in her pockets. "But it will only cover him."

"We just have to Draco with us by force then," said Ron with a sly smile.

* * *

"There is a report with that name," said Goodman and read the screen. "Two days ago there was a man confessing to a murder…"

"Murder," snorted Fred under his breath. "Where is he?"

"He was taken to psychological evaluation."

The twins exchanged looks, and then burst out laughing. Goodman watched as the two men convulsed. Again he wondered why he got all the crackpots.

"Poor Muggles," snorted George.

"Poor Severus," snorted Fred.

"Okay," Fred tried to control himself. "Where is this place?"

He pulled up a map from his pocket and folded it out on the desk. Goodman looked down at the map, confused.

"This is a map over Liverpool, which is not even in Scotland."

"Oh, my mistake!" Fred began to empty his pockets on the table.

There was big bag of multicoloured candy beans, a stick, lots and lots of rubber bands, a map of the London Underground, a notebook, a big feather…

"Ah!" He held up another map and looked at it. "'Inverness', that is Scotland! We are getting close."

"Look," Goodman knew he was going to regret this. "I can give you a lift to the hospital in my car." He got up and walked to the door. "Wait here; I am just going to tell the desk sergeant were I am going…"

"See," said George as the man left the room. "He can not resist my charm."

"You did not even say anything," said Fred collecting his things.

"Silent but attractive" said George.

"I can not argue with that."

Goodman came back inside and pulled on his blue uniform jacket. He glanced at the twins as he buttoned it down; they were smiling identical smiles at him. He could only tell them apart by that George was a little bit thinner and Fred looked a little more tired. He took his cap from the hanger.

"The garage is this way," he said fishing out the car keys from his pocket and led lead the way.

"It was not really murder," said Fred in a desperate tone. "He would never do that; he is a very kind man."

"Except when he is grading papers," murmured George. "Or teaching children."

"Shut up," Fred hit his brother quite hard, but George only laughed.

"What was it then?" asked Goodman against his will stepping in to the garage and holding up the door for the two men. "If it was not murder?"

"Assisted suicide… I think…" Fred bit his lip. "Well, he was already dying. Severus was just… helping…"

"Dumbledore jumped of a tower," said George patting his brothers back for comfort. "He would have died even if he was not killed."

Goodman was not sure that he wanted to know, but as an officer of the law… He pushed the remote key, the car blinked and beeped.

"Wow!" George looked flabbergasted. "Does it talk to you? Not even Dad would have thought of that!"

"That is really wicked," said Fred. "Hello," he waved at the car.

Goodman wondered if he was going to the hospital to pick someone up or to drop these two off.

It was probably the second choice, thought Goodman as the twins simultaneously seemed to panic over that the 'fasten seatbelt'-light was flashing. George, sat in the front seat began to pull on his belt so hard that it stuck. Fred, who had actually laid himself across the backseat did the same, but did not seem to grasp witch of the three belts he should use.

"You are kidding me!" Goodman stared at George who had managed to place the belt under his armpits, strapping over his chest. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know, handsome?" George shrugged with a flirty smile, shifting in his seat. "He is the expert," he nodded to his brother.

"I think I broke it," said Fred having pulled down the armrest in the middle of the backseat. "Sorry."

* * *

Draco left Azkaban, gagged and tied. Bill and Ron were holding on to his arms while Percy carried his legs. He put on a pissed off face. Harry was under the invisibility cloak, hanging draped over Charlie's shoulders. Charlie had his arm around Hermione's shoulders for support so it would not look so obvious that he was carrying something. Draco made eye contact with several with the prisoners as he was hauled out. There was a sting of guilt in his chest as he locked eyes with Goyle. His former friend looked really sad and lost. Would Goyle even be here now if Draco had not forced him to follow his lead? His thoughts returned to Crabbe and he felt so utterly sad.

Well outside the old castle the three Weasleys put him down and realised his binds, except for them around his hands.

"You are still a prisoner," said Charlie, adjusting Harry to a more easy to carry position. "We are placing you under guard in the Manor dungeons again."

"I understand," Draco nodded, he was just glad to be out.

"We all agree that you had a mistrial," Charlie continued walking to the far off Apparating point. "But we do not believe you innocent, remember that."

"Point taken."

"Dad is trying to negotiate a retrial for you," told Bill. "One that will take place after Harry wakes up and can give testimony."

Draco felt satisfied at this.


	36. Lost Again and Found Again

Snape had walked back to his assigned room. He would not have minded the wheelchair this time, but he believed he that was a man of principle. Doctor Thurstin had apologized for what had happened, seeing that Snape had become very upset. But Snape was not upset by the failing of the bookshelf. He was upset about that he knew that he had somehow done it. He had been given a paper copy of the Christmas card and the city arms from a strange big machine. Very poor quality paper, he noticed, and is was not even in colour. It was a strange felling, but he felt that everything around him was some how inferior to his usual standards. He thought about what the doctor had said about his seemingly good education. The thought made him smile, one of those rare, comfortable, recognizable smug smiles, he liked being smart. He settled down on the bed staring at the pictures.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy sat on the good couch in the drawing room, the one that had not been ripped apart by uncultivated Aurors. He did not like the uncertainty of the upcoming trial of his finances, there had not even been a date settled yet. He did not like the people treating his ancestral home as a kind of halfway house, but at least they were amusing. He had been listening to them talking for a while now. Draco was sitting beside him, still in those awful prison clothes, which only brought bad memories, and bound hands. Draco did not seem to mind.

He looked over to the transfigured bed that held Harry Potter. He wondered what it was about his wife's antique chairs that made these people wanting to turn them into beds.

"So what you are saying…" said Molly Weasley, "…is that we can wake him with this magic?"

"The Aboriginals have very strong dream magic," said the muggleborn girl. "They showed me a ritual to let someone enter someone else's dream."

"How would that wake him?" asked Bill Weasley.

"When I described the problem, they thought that he could be waked if we convinced him to do so."

"Are you saying that he could wake up if he wanted to?" asked the mother Weasley looking shocked.

"He is in a healing sleep to fight the venom," explained Hermione. "His mind keeps him asleep so he will not be poisoned to death."

"What kind of poison?" asked Lucius, for the first time feeling the need to speak.

"A poison made by Professor Snape so that he would be immune to Nagini's bite," clarified the girl. "He was slowly poisoning Draco for the same purpose as well, that is why neither of them is dead or like Harry now."

Lucius pulled his son closer to him; Draco looked quite surprised, even scared, by the sudden show of affection.

"Is there an antidote?"

"Only Professor Snape knows, and he has lost his memory," sighed Ronald Weasley. "George and Fred are looking for him now."

"But you have his memories," said Draco. "Can you not just look at them and find out the antidote?"

"It is not just finding an antidote…" Lucius thought out loud. "It is also Severus' skill, his experience and his personal magic."

"Correct," Hermione rubbed her head. "The problem is that it takes strong magic to put the Professors memory back. The only one alive with that kind of magic is Harry. And he is… well." She looked over at the sleeping figure.

"He can not be the only one," snorted Lucius.

"Well, okay, maybe not the only one," admitted the girl.

"But he is the only one we know of," Ron filled in. "And Snape gave the memories to Harry when he thought he was going to die. That makes the memories Harry's property."

The others stared at him. Molly had a proud smile on her face.

"What?" He looked hurt. "I know stuff too!"

* * *

The nurse looked between the excited twins and the uniformed policeman. Goodman rolled his eyes, Fred and George acted like five year olds at a fieldtrip. Once he had gotten them in their seatbelts he had seriously been considering committing them, and then himself.

"Are they next of kin?" asked the nurse, glancing at George who had became fascinated by a stapler and Fred who was nervously fiddling with a wooden knitting needle of some sort, spinning it between his fingers.

"I think he is in range now," said Fred.

"Hrm," Goodman cleared his throat a little embarrassed, not knowing the woman's reaction. "That man is his boyfriend."

"Oh," the nurse blushed. "Well…" she looked ashamed of herself. "That is not really next of kin. I am really sorry. I have to call the doctor before I can take you to the patient."

Goodman nodded, giving her a comforting smile.

"He is that way!" Fred was pointing with his knitting needle.

"Finally some headway," said George putting down the stapler.

The twins began to walk though the corridor.

"Hello!" called the nurse, phone receiver to her ear. "You are not allowed to go there!"

"I will get them," said Goodman following the two. "Mr. Weasley!"

"Here Simon," called one of them. "We found him!"

Goodman sped up and entered the room the twins had entered. There was a man on the bed in a too big hospital robe. The man stared at the twins.

"George?" he asked George.

"No," said George. "I'm George. He is Fred."

At that Fred jumped into the man's arms pressing their lips together.

"Highly improper behaviour," murmured the dark man in an angry tone between the kisses. "You aught to know how to behave at your age."

Goodman looked confused to George who almost beamed.

"That is our professor," he sighed.

"Professor?"

Goodman and George turned around to see a man in a white coat.

"Doctor Thurstin," he introduced himself. "Did you say that he is your professor?"

"Stop this public display of affection immediately!" said the man in the bed in a scolding voice that made everyone in the room freeze.

"Merlin, I love you," laughed Fred.

"Merlin?" asked Thurstin, obviously not at all taken aback by the two men's loving embrace. "So his name is not Severus?"

* * *

"So what is the plan?" asked Charlie.

"One of us will enter Harry's dream," said Hermione, clearly the one in charge of the operation. "Convince him to wake long enough to either help Professor Snape or hand over the ownership of the memories. Then we have to put him under again before the poison takes effect."

"How do we do that?"

"An ordinary stasis spell would do," she looked a little hesitant. "I think."

"You said 'convince', dear," Molly wrung her hands.

"It is not certain that he wants to wake up," Hermione stroked Harry's hair. "Even with the nightmares, he could prefer this state to the… difficulty and pain of being awake and facing reality."

"I want to do it!" said Draco.


	37. Different Views

Narcissa Malfoy hated being frail. Her womb, the very thing that made her a woman, betrayed her otherwise strong body and soul. She felt alone. She knew that Lucius was not the kind of man to sit still for long. The house arrest was going to tare on him eventually. Slowly she stroked her still flat stomach, wondering what the others where up to. She had seen a short glance of her son as he was returned to the Manor, but he was hastily whisked again. Her husband had followed and she was left alone. Baby or no baby, she thought, I can not spend nine months in this room. She grunted and sat up on the bed. Summoning her night robe and slippers she stood and dressed. Tying the belt around her hips she moved out of the room. Now, where could they be?

* * *

"Can we not just take him and leave?"

Fred's question was for George but it was Thurstin that answered.

"Mr. Snape is committed here; he is still under psychological evaluation."

"And legal," Goodman filled in.

"But we explained that it was not murder…"

"It is not that simple, Mr. Weasley."

"Do not worry," George patted his brothers back. "I will go to the Ministry and get Dad; he will know what to do."

Goodman sighed, from what he had heard of the twins' father, he was not sure of that statement. Still, 'Ministry', that meant that the man had influence. Without really thinking he followed George out of the room.

"George?" he said taking hold of the man's arm, and the world disappeared around him with a popping sound.

* * *

Thurstin looked away from the couple as he heard the strange sound from the other side of the door. Then he shrugged and stepped closer to the bed.

"Then maybe we can talk some more, Mr. Snape?" he said. "Now that your friend is here to fill in the blanks."

"Fine," said the man sourly holding on to the suddenly nervous redhead's hand.

"Very good," Thurstin collected a chair for himself and sat down next to the bed. "So, Mr. Weasley…" he pulled out his notebook and pen. "You say that he is your professor?"

"He was…" the young man said hesitantly. "We graduated three years ago."

"I see…" Thurstin made a note, glad that he was not dealing with a teacher/student relationship, which would have opened up a whole new set of problems. "What do you do now?"

"Me and my brother have a joke shop."

"'I and my brother'" corrected Snape with a snort.

Thurstin made a note.

"And what does Professor Snape teach?"

"Er…" Fred felt a little panic, wishing George could hurry up. "Chemistry?" Close enough. "But…"

"But?"

"He was Headmaster for a while…"

"Was?"

Fred looked at the man. Why was the healer repeating words like that? He should not be talking about this with a Muggle. Not in front of Severus, he did not want to give his lover the wrong impression. He could feel dark eyes staring at him, swallowing every piece of information like a starving man. Oh, how he wished he could just Obliviate the healer and take Severus away from here. But he had no authority to do so. Severus held up a piece of paper.

"Who is he?"

Fred looked at the strange black and white Muggle picture of a fat Dumbledore holding an armful of presents.

* * *

"What the fuck?!"

"Ops!" George winced and looked at the chocked man holding on to his arm. "That was not supposed to happen."

"What the fuck?!"

"Calm down…"

"What the fuck?!"

"You have made your point now," George sighed, this was not good.

He had Apparated to Hogsmeade, he was not skilled enough to go all the way to London. In the middle of his distress he was proud that he had not hurt himself or his uninvited passenger.

"Well," he sighed. "Since you are here, Handsome, I guess we have to go all the way."

"What the fuck?" repeated the man, seemingly for good measure.

* * *

Nobody objected Draco, he was shocked. He looked defiantly around the room, daring someone to turn him down, no one took the challenge. Not even Ron, even though he did not look happy about it. Draco looked at his father, no, not even he seemed to mind. Lucius just raised an eyebrow and gave him a fraction of a smile, which meant that he was amused.

"I was going to ask you…" said Hermione.

"You… You where?" Draco trembled.

"Yes," she smiled tentatively. "I believe that you are Harry's greatest difficulty and pain in reality right now."

"How sweet…"

* * *

Harry was back at the Great Hall facing Voldemort. They were circling each other, clasping their wands. But this was not his wand. Harry stopped circling and looked down at the wand in his hand. Draco's wand, the thought. He looked back at Voldemort and saw his own image in a big golden mirror. Behind him stood Dumbledore, holding a pair of socks.

"Hi" smiled Harry.

"Hello" answered the mirror image of the old man over his shoulder. "Take care, child."

"I will," said Harry and stepped though the mirror, stumbled and began to fall again.

* * *

Remus and Arthur sat in the Minister of Magic's waiting room. They were discussing the problem of the possible heritage.

"Sure," Remus rubbed his neck. "I can see the benefits… Money, safety, influence and so on… But that kind of magic… Well, look at the Malfoys, they are corrupted to the core. And the responsibility… It is not fair to thrust something like that on a baby. I can not accept it. Andie feels the same…"

"'Andie'?" Arthur smiled menacingly.

"Andromeda," Remus corrected himself and blushed.

Before Arthur cloud delve deeper in this intimate name calling he was interrupted by one of his sons coming out of the elevator holding the hand of a wide eyed Muggle police man.

"Dad," George shifted his feet. "We need a little help."

* * *

Three house elves were nervously following Narcissa, whispering in their own language. She ignored them and continued her walk. It felt good to move again after almost a week of lying still. She remembered the last four months of her pregnancy with Draco; she had never been so bored in her life. Yes, she had learned quite a lot by reading though half of the library, but uh, boring.

"Mistress has a visitor," peeped a new elf popping up beside her.

"Who?" Narcissa could not imagine any one who wanted to visit her.

"Me, sister dear."

A tall brown haired almost copy of herself stepped forward. Andromeda was holding a young toddler on her arm. The child was constantly changing his hair colour, but he stopped at blonde when he caught Narcissa's eye.


	38. New things

"George?" Arthur eyed the Muggle. "What are you doing?"

"We found Professor Snape," breathed George. "Fred is with him now. But they will not let him go out of the hospital."

Remus got to his feet.

"Take us there," he said.

George nodded, and they all scrambled in to the elevator. The Muggle stared at the memo paper planes over his head. Arthur cleared his throat; this was clearly a errand for his department. He found himself quite fascinated over the things on the policeman's belt, but tried to ignore the feeling.

"Arthur Weasley," he said holding out his hand. This is my friend Remus Lupin."

"Simon Goodman," cracked the Muggle, trembling shaking hands but still holding on to George.

"And what are your intentions with my son?"

"Wha…" the Muggle looked down to his clasping hand, quickly letting go.

"Dad!" George squeaked, sounding disappointed.

"Why did you bring him here?" asked Remus as they embarked at the lobby.

"He followed me," George grabbed hold of the policeman's arm to help him keep up, and not stop and stare at everything. "I could not just leave him, I am not allowed to Obliviate. Anyway I am crap at it. And… he is really cute."

Arthur rolled his eyes. They arrived at the floo.

"Not again," the Muggle grunted.

"It is okay," said George reassuringly. "Most people only throw up the first time."

"I am going to let your mother have a long talk to you about this, son."

George went pale.

* * *

"That is Dum… err… Albus," Fred cleared his throat. "A… A… friend of yours."

Severus looked down at the picture. He knew that Fred was not telling the entire truth, and he was grateful for that. He had no will to let the doctor know more than necessary.

"Mr. Snape," said Thurstin with a smile, probably thinking that he made a breakthrough. "You mentioned this name earlier; let us see if your friend can help us with the others."

Snape felt ashamed, he noticed how Fred's hold on his hand tightened. He hid his shame behind a most comfortable mask. The doctor leafed in his notebook.

"Here we go… 'Hagrid',"

"He works at the school," Fred's voice was strained. "Caretaker…"

"Ah, and Mr. Snape, how do you feel about this?"

Snape stared at the man. How did he feel? Should he feel something over that a school had a caretaker? Actually, he found it strange that he was a teacher; he did not really like children. Some were tolerable, he supposed, but a whole school of them, perish the thought! And chemistry? He could not grasp this thought, what did a chemist do? He did not know.

Thurstin seemed to wait for an answer; Snape cast a look to Fred.

"Severus does not like Hagrid," said Fred.

"'Sirius'?" read Thurstin.

"They… They went to school together. He is dead. Severus did not like him."

"'Fillius'?"

"He is a… teacher, I do not think he likes him either."

"Hmhm… 'Lucius'?"

"Oh, he is an old friend of Sev… But I do not think they like each other anymore…"

"But he likes Albus?"

The pained look on Thurstin's face was more amusing to Severus than the distress over that he did not seem to like anyone. Actually, there was no distress to talk about.

"Well," Fred gave him a glance. "Severus did kill him when he asked him to…"

Doctor Thurstin was almost as white as his coat. Severus found it entertaining, not really caring that Fred had confirmed the fact that he was a murderer. The doctor trembled a bit and looked down to his notes.

"'Remus'" he read, seemingly not wanting to know.

"That would be me!" said a sand haired man stepping in to the room.

He was wearing a brown suit and a red tie, his face and hands were scared.

"Severus does not like him," piped Fred with a relived voice.

"The feeling is mutual," smiled Remus and shook Snape's hand. "Hello, you old scallywag. Let me be the first to thank you for what you have done."

Another man followed, clearly the twins' father, judging on the likeness. Snape had a feeling that he did not like him either. The thought made him worry. What if he did not like Fred?

* * *

"So…" George looked sheepishly at Simon.

They were standing outside the hospital room. The policeman pushed his cap back as far as it went. His brown eyes moving rapidly though the recent happenings.

"What is Obliviate?" he asked.

"They take away your memories, sometimes they change them."

"Is that what happened to that man in there? Am I going to be like him?"

"No!" George held up his hands. "The professor lost his memory after a near death poisoning and a… well, a spell. You will be nothing like him!"

"So you are going to let them do it to me?"

"Muggles are not supposed to know about us… Not yet anyway…"

"But… but…" Simon hesitated.

"What?"

"What if I wanted to see more?"

George felt a boisterous smile spread over his face. Casting a quick look at the door he held out his hand.

"Want to visit my shop?"

"You have a shop?" Simon took the offered hand without wavering.

"Only the best shop in the world, Handsome," laughed George and Apparated.

* * *

Draco watched as Hermione and the Weasleys prepared the ritual. His father had stood up and was studying the scene like he was back in school. He was not going to last long locked up in this house, thought Draco. Not his mother either. But still, he shivered, it was better than Azkaban. Again he thought about Vincent Crabbe, he felt really sorry for him. He thought about Slytherin house and how it had changed, how many who would be gone, including him. His eyes darted to Granger and the Weasel, neither of them had finished school. Draco sighed; he would have liked to study for the NEWTs. Draco sighed again; at least he would see to it that Harry got the opportunity to get his.

"Stop sighing," said Mrs. Weasley. "Come, I will take you to wash up and change."

"Mom…"

"Oh hush up, Percy. Come on dear."

Draco let himself be led out of the room. He would like to wash and change. Mrs. Weasley untied his hands, he looked at her.

"I am not going to scrub your back, young man," said the matronly woman. "And you have to do up your own pants."

"Thank you."

He suddenly stopped, having caught something in the corner of his eye. Curiously he stepped over to the Tea Room and glanced though the open door.

His mother and… and her sister, were sitting on the Louis XV sofa holding teacups. On the floor sat a pink haired child laughingly playing with some house elves. Draco moved away, not wanting to disturb them. Mrs. Weasley smiled.


	39. Reunion

Severus was holding Fred's hand very tightly as they walked through the great house. He had neither been scared, nor sick, nor surprised, as he was Apparated and flooed. The more improbable things became the more real they became to him. The only thing that disturbed him was that he had to hold on to Remus during the transportations, since Fred did not trust his still young untrained skills to carry a full grown man. Severus just had to suffer the uncomfortable closeness to Remus. He did not understand his unease to the man. There had been a shiver in his spine when they exited the fire place and he saw Remus shaking of the soot as the others dusted it away.

As a little wrinkly creature with big ears approached them Severus was even more relaxed of the normality of the place.

"You is waited in drawing room," said the creature. "Gumby will show you."

They followed. Severus thought back on Doctor Thirstin and the blank look at his face after Arthur had altered his memory. He would not have minded talking more to the man; he had begun to warm up to him.

"Where did George go to?" asked Arthur.

"I am sure he is giving Simon the grand tour," smiled Fred, squeezing Severus arm. "He is in so much trouble…" he whispered.

They where led in to a room full of people, half of them were redheads, Fred had a big family. Severus met eyes with the only man in his own age in the room, a snobbish looking blond man. There was a clear tension in those blue eyes, he reminded him of the Pretty Boy.

"Professor?"

Snape looked towards the timid voice and wondered why it made the hair in his neck stand out. A young woman with big hair, clutching a book, where looking up at him. He waited for her to say something. She did not.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"Just checking," she smiled timidly.

He snorted and caught sight of the sleeping man on the bed. Typical, he thought and wondered why.

"How are we going to do this?" asked the youngest of the redheads.

The girl in charge bit her thumb, thinking.

"We need to have the Pensieve close," she said. "Draco needs to lie next to Harry on the bed. Bring that chair for the Professor."

She began to organize the seating arrangements, again Severus was not surprised. The youngest brother walked up the Fred.

"Where is George?" he asked.

"He is distracted," ginned Fred. "We had a little run in with the law."

"Why is that man staring at me?" asked Severus. "It feels like I should know why."

"That is Lucius Malfoy," whispered his lover.

"Oh," Severus looked curiously at the man. "The old friend I do not like."

"Sit here next to Harry, Professor," said the bossy girl.

Severus sat down, not liking to be told what to do but suffered it for the grater good. The grater good, he thought. That Albus character used to talk about that, did he not? He looked down to a stone bowl in front of him. There was some kind of smoky colourful fluid in it. He leaned forward, very familiar.

"That is your memories," said Fred.

"We are going to wake Harry," said the girl. "So he can give them back to you. When you have your memories back, we need you to produce an antidote for the venom in his body. Do you understand?"

Severus looked hungrily at the swirling stone basin and nodded. Therein lay all the answers to his questions. He glanced at Fred who sat down on a chair next to him. Severus really hoped that he liked him.

* * *

Draco had showered; he had also let Mrs. Weasley incinerate the prison clothes. He chose to wear a simple white shirt and a green jumper over ordinary black slacks. No need to dress fancy for a dream date with Harry Potter.

As he followed Mrs. Weasley back to the drawing room, he wondered what he was going to say to Harry. Was it possible to apologize in a dream, and did it count as an apology? He entered the room and caught sight of Severus.

"So they found you?" he asked, some old feelings for the man was flaring up.

"Apparently, Pretty Boy," his godfather said.

Lucius snorted from his place by the wall.

"Lay down next to Harry," said Hermione. "We have a sleeping potion for you."

Draco looked around the room; he counted twelve people, including himself and Harry.

"Do you think we are enough people?" he asked sarcastically. "Should we not get Mother, Aunt Andromeda and the baby too?"

"Your mother?" Lucius pushed of the wall. "Is she out of bed?"

"In the Tea Room," said Draco.

His father stormed out, tightly followed by the werewolf. Draco smirked.

"Is there some other place for your family reunion?"

The brothers looked insulted, but Mrs. Weasley smiled and nodded.

"Of course, dear. You need to sleep in peace."

"Mom," complained Ron. "He will be drugged, we can not wake him."

"Never the less," his mother said sternly. "It is not nice staring at people when they are asleep."

"I have been staring at Harry for…"

"Ronald!"

"Yes, mom…"

"I want to stay with Sev," said Fred.

"Of course dear."

"Mom!"

"Come on, bro," said Bill pushing Ron out of the room. "Let us go to my place. Fleur promised to make a carrot cake."

The crowd had declined to five, Draco felt more at ease. He lay down next to Harry, head on his shoulder and hand round his waist. Hermione put the sleeping potion to his mouth and he drank.

* * *

Lucius stood hovering over his ignoring wife. He had not said anything about that she was out of bed, he just hovered. Andromeda gave him a sympatric look.

"So, Mr. Lupin," Narcissa smiled the man sitting on the floor with his son. "I hear congratulations are in order."

Lupin went so pale that all of his scars went red. His eyes darted to Andromeda, she blushed. Narcissa's eyes widened.

"I meant for your son, being our heir."

"Oh," Lupin blushed too.

Lucius scrutinized the now blue haired little boy. He did not seem impressed with what he saw.

"Do not say that," Andromeda patted her knee. "You are going to have a healthy baby."

Narcissa felt Lucius hand on her shoulder.


	40. Dream a Little Dream of Me

A/N: Harry's dreams are based on the songs 'Deam a Little Deam of Me' with Mama Cass, and 'Enough' by Disturbed

Draco stood in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The hall was empty except for Harry. Draco took a step forwards, Harry backed off.

"Hi?" Draco tried.

"Hi," came the frightened answer.

The ceiling of the hall was full of stars. A wonderful night sky opened up above them. It seemed to go on for ever. As he looked down again, Harry was surrounded by dead people. A couple that was probably is parents, Sirius Black, Dumbledore, Fred…

"You know…" said Draco and stepped closer. "Fred is alive… So is Severus…"

"They are?" Harry trembled. "What about him?"

Draco turned around and stood face to face with the Dark Lord.

Ice ran through his guts and spine, it took all of his will power not to kneel down before the horrible apparition. He took a couple of steps back, his whole body was trembling. Harry was close behind him.

"He…" Draco struggled with the words. "He… is dead."

He shivered as the ice fell of him. He had said it out loud, for the first time. The Dark Lord was dead, gone. The terrifying image faded. Draco was still shocked, his heart in his throat. A strong wind swept though the hall and blew away the room, only the sky was left.

Harry stood alone again. Draco tried to smile at him, not really succeeding. To his left in a big tree sat a Phoenix, it was singing a sad song.

"I love you" whispered Harry.

Draco froze and stared at the crying man. He took one step closer and he felt ripped apart. The pain was indescribable, yet he knew that he had felt it before. He looked down at his torn and bleeding chest.

"I am sorry," cried Harry.

* * *

"O my god!" screamed Hermione.

Deep wounds opened up on Draco's chest. Blood coloured both his and Harry's clothes. Draco's fingers clawed Harry's side. Both their faces were full of pain. Hermione began to mumble healing spells.

"I will get help," Fred ran from the room.

Snape sat calmly; his hands folded, and looked at the mayhem. He looked a little irritated over getting blood on his robes. He rose only an eyebrow as Harry screamed out magic. The wounds on Draco's chest closed, leaving only light scars behind.

Hermione stared at her bloody hands as Lucius stormed in to the room, closely followed by Mrs. Weasley.

* * *

Harry knelt by the bleeding body. Draco convulsed. This was different from the other times. This time he could feel the smell and the taste of blood. This felt real, really real. Harry screamed, pressing his hands to the wounds, trying to stop the flow of blood. He leaned over and placed a kiss on Draco's lips.

"Good night, ice prince," he whispered and took the limp body in his arms. "I miss you."

He felt alone, rocking the healing body in his tight arms. Draco gasped for air. The stars above them were fading as the sunrise arrived. He felt a hand lingering on his hip. Harry laughed though his tears and kissed Draco again.

Sunbeams found them and they were filled with warmth. All worries seemed to flow of Harry as he basked in the sun and held Draco in his arms. This was a sweet dream.

* * *

"What happened?" Lucius hand swiped over his son's scared chest.

"I do not know," sobbed Hermione, trying to control herself. "Harry must have used wandless magic in his sleep again."

Lucius finger stroked over the old scars, comparing them to the new ones. He glared at Severus, whose calm face was almost insulting. Lucius knew the spell; he had himself asked Severus to make it for him years ago. You get what you ask for, he thought. Now it had been used two times on his own son. Who was to blame, he wondered. Potter for casting the spell? Severus for letting it come to Potter's hands? Or was it his own fault, for wanting to have a spell like this in the first place?

He stepped back as his worried wife entered the room and Molly Weasley cast a warming spell over the two sleeping bodies.

* * *

Harry looked over his dead. Fred and Snape were not there anymore. But the others…

"You do not want them," croaked the man in his arms.

"I want everything."

"Well," Draco stroked his cheek. "You can not have everything. Other people would be sad if there was nothing left for them."

Harry laughed and tightened his grip around the man.

"I need you to wake up, Harry."

"Why?"

"You are poisoned," Draco's voice cracked. "I poisoned you."

"I know," sighed Harry. "I let you. I let you do everything to me."

Draco tore loose and sat up on his knees. The landscape around them changed back to the Great Hall. The dead were back around them. Harry was sitting at the edge of a deep abyss, his legs dangling into the void.

"Why would you let me do that to you?"

"I told you," Harry smiled. "I want everything."

"You wanted me to hurt you? To kill you?"

"Everyone else was dead… I was dead."

"You are not dead!" Draco moved closer, scared of falling down the abyss.

"Voldemort was a part of me, I killed him. I am dead."

Draco nodded; he placed himself next to Harry, swinging his legs over the edge.

"Still, you need to wake up," he leaned his head to Harry's shoulder. "Just for a little while. Severus has lost his memories and you have to give them back."

"He was in love with my mother, you know."

"I did not know," Draco began to see a pattern in his godfather's actions. "He must have been very sad when she died."

"He was…"

"Like I would be if you died."

"You killed me," Harry laughed. "You brought it on yourself!"

"I was confused," Draco shrugged. "And I thought I killed myself too. So…"

"One last shag before death…" mused Harry.

"I had no hope, no life…"

"Nothing inside…" Harry filled in. "A thousand times a heartbreak."

"You need to wake up," Draco tried to focus on the task at hand.

"Will you be here when I come back?"

"I will try to be…"

"Okay then," Harry leaned in for a kiss.

When Draco opened his eyes, Harry was gone. So were the Great Hall and the abyss. He was sitting in his cell at Azkaban. It was no longer Harry's dream, it was his. Shit.

* * *

Harry gasped and sat right up, pushing Draco to the floor with a thud. He breathed hard, looking around. He was in a nicely furnished room surrounded by people; most of them had red hair.

"Ops," he said and looked over the edge of the bed to the body of Draco Malfoy on the floor. "Sorry."

He felt a bit of panic coming over him as he noticed all the blood and Draco's torn clothing. The panic continued as Lucius Malfoy came forward. Without thinking he held out his hand to cast a spell, but a firm fist grabbed his wrist.

"No, Harry!" scolded Ron's voice.

He met his best friend's firm eyes and withdrew his hand. Lucius unfroze and wearily checked on Draco. Suddenly Harry felt sick. Fever was creeping up on him, his heartbeat escalating.

"Do it now!" Hermione's voice rang out.

Harry felt his head being jerked to the side and he looked into Fred's face.

"Harry, give Severus his memories back."

"He…" Harry fought the nausea. "He can have them."

"Help him," said Hermione. "Professor, hold his hand and lean in to the Pensieve."

Harry felt someone take is hand and a rush of magic flowed though him. He fell back on the pillows.

* * *

Then everything happened at once. Snape fainted, Harry threw up and Draco began to scream. Fred grabbed hold of Snape, preventing him from falling on the floor. Hermione cast a stasis spell on Harry, which bounced back and hit her so that she fell backwards. Lucius tried to hold his son down, while Andromeda tried to hold Narcissa back. Ron ran to Hermione. Another failed stasis spell was cast, by Arthur Weasley, as Harry began to convulse.

"For the love of Rasputin," murmured Narcissa and tore herself away from her sister.

She hurried over to a painting of a windmill and opened it. Behind, in the wall, were a shelf full of vials and flasks. She chose a small blue vial shaped like a teardrop. There was only a second of hesitation before he handed to vial to Mrs. Weasley who was closet to her.

"Make Harry drink this."

"What is it?" Mrs. Weasley asked with tears in her eyes.

"A stasis potion… of some sort…"

Mrs. Weasley read the label on the vial and paled significantly. She looked at Narcissa who nodded with pain in her face.

"Out of the way," Molly Weasley pushed her way to Harry. "Drink this, dear."

She put the vial on Harry's lips.


	41. I Would Die for You

"'Juliet potion'?" read Ron from the empty vial. "What is that?"

"Cissa!" Lucius screamed with a rage he never showed his wife before. "What have you done?!"

Arthur drew a breath and comforted his shaking wife in his arms. Harry lay still in the bed. He did not breathe; there was no movement on his chest indicating heartbeats. His limbs were at uncomfortable angels. His green eyes stared lifeless to the ceiling. He was for all appearances dead.

"She has just offered your son's life on the Altar of Harry Potter," said Severus Snape, stirring in his chair.

"What?" trembled Ron.

"The name is from the play Romeo and Juliet," Severus spoke as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "Juliet takes a potion that makes her appear dead, Romeo kills himself, Juliet awakes…"

"Are you saying that Draco has to kill himself for Harry to wake up?"

Silence spread in the room. Narcissa cried on her sister's shoulder. Lucius was paler than ever, rocking the nightmare trapped Draco in his arms.

"We can make it work," said Severus suddenly getting to his feet, his voice had gained back its old authority. "Draco just has to choose a death that we can save him from."

The others blinked at him.

"I have the antidote to the snake poison at Hogwarts," he cleared his throat.

"You have it?" asked Charlie. "You had it all along?"

"Of course I have, you knob head," sneered Severus. "Do you think I make poisons with out making antidotes? Idiot."

Charlie rose, ready to strike.

"There, there," Remus handed Teddy over to Andromeda. "I will go with you to Hogwarts and get it. Come on, let us hurry."

The two men left the room.

"He did not even look at me," said Fred, tears running down his face.

His mother took him in her arms and patted his head.

"How is Hermione?" she asked.

"I am fine," peeped the young woman, resting against the wall. "Just hurting from were my head hit the floor."

Arthur cleaned up the sick and took away the blood the best as he could. Then he helped Lucius return Draco to Harry's side. They arranged them comfortably in each other's arms. Arthur closed Harry's eyes. He watched sadly as Draco's hand travelled around Harry's unmoving chest as it was looking for something.

* * *

The sun was shining in though the cell bars, strange since his cell did not have any windows. It is a good day to die, Draco thought. But then again, he had promised Harry to wait for him. He looked over to the cot were Harry lay naked and sleeping. The man did not stir as Draco sat down beside him.

"So here we are again," Draco patted Harry's leg, still no movement.

He got a little worried and touched the man's chest, nothing. His hand flew over the unmoving body, nothing. They have killed him! He looked to the door. Bastards!

He was surprised at his reaction. Should he not be crying? Should he not try to shake some life in to the limp body? No, all he felt was anger. Pure and utter anger. The fucking bastards! How dared they kill his Harry? In a cloud of vengeance he got to his feet and rushed to the door.

He tore it open expecting to find the common room of Azkaban. Instead he found the Gryffindor prefect's room. Harry was lying on the bed, just as he had left him in the cell.

"You are playing games with me," Draco sighed.

Once again he sat down next to Harry. This is not real, he thought. This is a dream. Harry had left and he had come back, Severus must have gotten his memories back. This is a dream; Draco forced himself to think as he studied the dead-like body. At least he hoped it was a dream.

What if he really had killed Harry, here in this room? Raped and killed him. Draco looked around. Harry's clothes on the floor, the two wands. He looked down on himself and saw the torn, burnt and bloody shirt. He did not have any trousers on. He got up to his hands and knees.

"Harry?"

He crawled closer. This could not be real, could it? Harry could not really be dead? It was a dream. This is a dream! Wake up, wake up!

* * *

Draco opened his eyes. He was home, in the drawing room. Sitting up he looked around the room. He was alone with Harry. Where had they all got to? His heart froze as he noticed the body beside him. A sheet had been placed over Harry's face. With trembling hands he pulled down the fabric. It had all been for nothing… They had not got to the antidote in time. The poison had killed Harry. He had killed Harry. This was real. A hiccup of tears exploded in his throat.

"No, no, no…"

He felt Harry's cold skin against his own. His shirt was torn. Draco put his hand over his heart. Again there was an explosion. He screamed, screamed and screamed.

Then he saw it. The hidden potion cabinet behind the windmill-picture was open. Hulking and convulsing he got up and walked over. He looked in, there were several potions. There where potions there that would kill him, he saw them. They were on display as if someone had placed them that way. It would be so simple. He looked back at Harry's dead body. He did not deserve simple! No! He deserved to die in pain and agony over what he had done. He reached further in, to the very back of the cabinet. His hand gripped around the object. Slowly he took it out and pressed to his chest.

He turned back to Harry and walked back to the bed. Still with his hands pressed to his chest, he leant down at placed a kiss on Harry's lips. They did not respond this time. This time it was over.

"I love you," he whispered.

Then he raised the sharp knife and stabbed himself in the stomach. He screamed in pain.

Another scream came from the corner as Ron threw off the invisibility cloak. But Draco did not notice him. He stared at Harry's living green eyes staring back at him. He coughed up blood and fell off the bed. Harry's face of pure terror was the last thing he saw before everything turned black.


	42. Are we Fine?

Fred bit his lip and moved closer to Severus. They were standing outside the drawing room waiting for Ron's signal. He was scared. Severus had not looked at him. Not when he got his memory back. Not when he had returned with the antidote. Hesitantly Fred touched the older mans hand. Severus froze, Fred bit his lip.

"Sev?" he whispered.

Severus shock and closed his eyes. Slowly he turned to Fred. After what felt like for ever he slowly his eyes again and met Fred's. They stood so for a couple of seconds regarding each other. Fred's face was a cloud of worry and hope. Severus seemed cold. Then he leaned in for a kiss.

Molly Weasley began to cry. Percy blew his nose.

* * *

Lucius shivered as his childhood friend kissed the Weasley twin. He was not an approving man, but he guessed that he had to change some of his views from now on. He held on to Cissa's hand. He wished that she was in her bed, but nothing could take her away from this place. Not when their only child was expected to take his own life on the other side of the door. Lucius knew what it must have done to her, choosing that potion. He kissed her hand, letting her know that she was forgiven. She smiled back.

* * *

"He had a knife!" screamed Ron. "He did not take any of the potions! I did not see! He hid it! He had a knife!"

Harry did not listen to Ron's harangue. Nor did he take any notice to the crowd of people bursting into the room. He had dived after Draco. Under the screams and gasps he slowly drew out the blade from Draco's hands.

"Wand," he said holding out his hand, not tearing his eyes away from the pale face before him.

Five different wands were promptly placed in his palm. He took them all in his fist and began to murmur healing spells. He could feel a hand on his back, then another one and then there where hands all over him. He drew strength from all of their magic and placed it in the spells.

Slowly the wound began to close and heal. Yet another scar was forming on Draco's torso, yet another memory carved in his flesh. There was a gasp of air and Draco coughed up more blood. It coloured his lips and face.

Harry bent down and kissed him staining his own lips. Draco responded to the kiss, but not on a conscious level. He moved the bundle of wands up and down over the man's body a couple of times. Draco blinked rapidly and jerked a couple of times. Someone sobbed, it sounded like Hermione. Harry felt himself drain slowly. When he finally noticed life returning to Draco, Harry took in the darkness and fainted.

* * *

Draco woke up in the dungeons. He did not mind, Harry was sleeping beside him. They lay in a big bed, much more comfortable than the stone floor. They were both dressed in pyjamas taken from Draco's own wardrobe. He was even happier when Harry opened his eyes and looked straight at him. They were both awake, this was not a dream. Draco smiled as Harry laid a kiss on his lips.

"What are we doing here?" asked Draco.

"You are a dangerous criminal, did you not know that?"

"Very dangerous," smirked Draco and kissed him back.

"You have to have a personal guard." Another kiss

"Lucky me…" he rolled Harry over to his back sitting down on top of him.

"Lucky me…"

"I have to ask," Draco whispered and began to unbutton Harry's shirt. "Did you come on to me that day?"

"I have been coming on to you forever," Harry smirked, stroking his hand over Draco's thighs. "It just happened to be a bad time for you to finally notice."

"I am sorry…" He hesitated with the last button.

"I forgive you," Harry laughed. "It was not like I did not enjoy it."

"You did?" Draco was shocked.

"It hurt, but not that I really minded it."

"Pervert."

"You should talk," Harry pinched his hip. "Taking advantages of my unconscious body like that."

"Hmm. The Weasel told you about that did he?" Draco stroked Harry's chest, happy to feel the increased beating of a heart.

"Why do you not show me what you did?" he wiggled hid hips under Draco's. "Ron was not so in to details."

"He did not see any details," smirked Draco. "But I would be happy to fill you in."

He slid down, brushing their erections together. Stopping there for a while he took advantage of Harry's eager mouth. Harry moaned in the back of his throat. He continued down, kissing the soft skin. He took in everything that he had missed the last time. He let his tongue slide over a hard nipple and was rewarded with another sound of pleasure from Harry's mouth. Slowly he edged himself down to his prize. When he found himself in a comfortable position he even more slowly rolled down the pyjama bottoms from Harry's hips. His memory had served him right, he remembered it perfectly. Draco took the red, shiny cock in his mouth. Slowly he began to suck.

Harry moaned again and began to stroke his hair and neck.

He drew the wonderful stiffness deeper in his mouth. He placed one hand firmly on Harry's hip and dug down in his own trousers to grip abound his own cock. Steadily he began to move in time with Harry's vibrant trusts. He licked the precome of the shaft, Harry's fingers dug deeper in his scalp, griping his hair.

Semen filled Draco's mouth, Harry shivered and trusted. Draco held down and he swallowed hard to get it all. He came not far behind, nuzzling his forehead against the top of Harry's thigh. Exhausted Draco rested his head on Harry's stomach.

As he looked up, he was met by sleepy green eyes and a smile.

"So that is what I have been missing…" Harry grinned. "Thank you for showing me."


	43. Epilouge

"The Malfoy fortune will be put in the trust of Harry Potter for ten years, until that time Draco Malfoy has served his sentence," the Warlock banged his club on the desk.

Remus breathed a sigh of relief. He had fought hard for this. He held Andromeda's hand tightly. For the first time in three months he could finally relax. Justice had been served with out the use of his son. He kissed his new wife and winked at Harry on the other side of the courtroom. Harry looked quite smug where he sat next to Draco. Draco on the other hand looked taken aback. The thought of living ten years on hand outs from his boyfriend must have shocked the young man. But, thought Remus, how much would he need being locked up in the Manor?

* * *

Lucius kissed the top of his newborn daughters head. She had her mother's eyes. He sat still patting the child, as the healers removed Narcissa's body from the house. At least she had seen the baby before she slipped away. He had run out of tears long before she died.

"Cissa," he said to the child. "Do you like that name? It is yours if you want it…" He thought for a while. "Cissa Rema Malfoy."

The werewolf was going to be godfather, Lucius had mixed feelings about that, but he had promised his wife. It was something about bringing Remus closer in to the family. Lucius snorted, the baby did the same.

"Good girl," Lucius mused. "You will make a fine Malfoy."

* * *

"Catch any badguys today?" asked George.

"Only you," Simon embraced him.

"I am a goodguy," George kissed his boyfriend.

"You wish," the Muggle laughed. "Your products are a menace to society. Sev agrees with me. Do you not?"

"Unruly bastards, both of them," muttered Severus from behind his potions magazine. "Ought to be flogged."

"I will floo Fred," said George. "I am sure he can bring you something from the shop."

"Do not give him ideas," Simon slapped George on the arm.

Severus smiled and continued reading.

* * *

"Ooh," Draco held up the post order catalogue. "Look Harry!"

"How much?" Harry did not even look up from the newspaper.

"Thirteen galleons."

"Put it on the list."

"Ooh, they have it in blue as well."

"List…"

"You are going to make me work for this are you not?"

"Of course I am," smirked Harry turning a leaf on the paper.

"Good," mused Draco. "Oooh!

the end

* * *

* * *

Thank you everybody who got this far.

Please review


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